Matrimonal Hook-up
by BlueMoon Goddess
Summary: Having been burned by relationships before, Bulma Briefs has stayed on her family's businesses, keeping work her main priority. That was until Vegeta Ouji, lured her out of her workaholic lifestyle with an irresistible offer. She shouldn't be trusting him, but his powerful onyx gaze has her rethinking the best use of a conference room, is the riskiest proposition.
1. Chapter 1

BlueMoon Goddess: Yea, yea, yea, I know I have other stories I have to finish and do. But I read this book years ago and thought to myself, "This would be a good idea for a Vegeta x Bulma story!" so, I am starting this first chapter off, just to see if people like the idea behind it. If I get a lot of positive reviews in the next few weeks, then I'll have the next one up soon. Also, like my other VegBul stories, this is an AU fic and everyone is human. So enough of this, enjoy the first chapter!

Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ, its character's or the book "The Marriage Merger" by Jennifer Probst

Summary: Having been burned by relationships before, Bulma Briefs has stayed on her family's businesses, keeping work her main priority. That was until Vegeta Ouji, lured her out of her workaholic lifestyle with an irresistible offer. She shouldn't be trusting him, but his powerful onyx gaze has her rethinking the best use of a conference room, is the riskiest proposition.

* * *

Bulma adjusted the knot in her green scarf, smoothed down her purple dress, and opened the gilded double doors. She walked to the receptionist's desk, where a matronly woman took her name and told her to have a seat. Hmm, surprising. She'd expected a young starlet in killer heels who rocked her boss's world at lunchtime. Shame on her for assuming.

'Perhaps Vegeta Ouji will be a pleasant surprise.' She thought.

She shrugged out of her lime green trench coat and settled her briefcase on the floor. The ringing of phones drifted in the air as she took in the lush corporate surroundings of Ouji Enterprises. The giant logo of the company was hung in polished brass on the front wall, and the reception area had comfortable leather chairs and royal blue carpet. The massive main desk was of glass and boasted a variety of high-tech equipment along with assorted drawers and compartments for organization.

She had done her homework, but it hadn't given her much. A quick talk with her father informed her that Vegeta was true to his word, didn't have any cut-cards, and had razor-sharp business skills. His name was well known in the hotel industry where luxury hotels courted him to run their establishments for certain lengths of time. Vegeta stepped in, turned the businesses around, and removed himself without another word. The main headquarters was housed in California, but ten months ago a brand new satellite office appeared in New York. Uneasiness rumbled through the business industry as rumors exploded. She bet even the famous hotels kept a close eye on the man. His record was impeccable, and he possessed the Midas touch to change a crumbling company into a treasure trove.

That's why the phone call she received had taken her completely off guard. Why would the biggest hotel connoisseur request a meeting with her at nine-thirty on a Monday morning? She'd tried to gain further information, but a curt voice had informed her there would only be one opportunity to meet with him, and he would explain the terms of the meeting in person.

Bulma despised secrets and business cloaked in mystery. She had agreed to the meeting, but had immediately began digging. She found out that his father, Vegeta Ouji Sr., had started the company thirty-five years ago, and had been going strong ever since. Ten years ago, when Vegeta Sr. died his son, Vegeta Jr. took over the reins. The last decade showed Vegeta Jr's steady rise in power, and all the businesses he helped and even some places he sent generous donations to. She even saw the gleeful press regarding his colorful love life, but that didn't interest her. She couldn't care less who he slept with or when. She only cared about what why he wanted to see her. Unfortunately, her father had only advised her to take the meeting, vowing he knew nothing about the man's intentions.

"You may go in now, Ms. Briefs."

Bulma smiled and grabbed her designer briefcase. She was led down a short hallway to a heavily carved cherry-wood door. She reached for the knob, but the door swung open without a sound. A shiver raced down her spine, and she hesitated. Odd…she felt that if she crossed the threshold, her life would never be the same. Almost like being invited into a haunted house by the owner, who craved your soul.

"Come in." The husky drawl whispered against her ears. She took the necessary three steps in, the door swung closed soundlessly behind her.

Her hands clenched around her briefcase. What was wrong with her? Usually she dominated a meeting from the first moment, but she stood rooted to the floor staring across the room at one of the most powerfully sexual men she'd ever seen in her life. No wonder his receptionist was a grandmotherly type. There wasn't a woman alive who could work for him without getting tongue-tied and stumbling over herself in an effort to please him.

His inner sanctum was decorated in dark wood, dark blues, and rich gold trims. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves took up the wall behind him with endless leather spines amidst odd figures and sculptures in various materials. Smooth marble, gleaming silver, twisted copper. The left wall was painted blue and displayed an assortment of art with an erotic flavor. She longed to study the artwork closer but tucked that information to the back of her mind for future reference. His sprawling cherry desk took up half the room in an effort to intimidate. His chair must have been elevated for a dominating visual impression, because there was no way a man could be that tall. Perched on his black leather throne, he studied her with an assessing air that stripped her of niceties and social barriers, somehow leaving her bare, exposed, and a bit vulnerable.

His black hair shot straight up like a flame. A dark flame that would tempt a woman to twist her fingers in its length as he ravaged her. She catalogued his features in an itemized list: Gracefully curved brows, high defined cheekbones, and a strong chin. However his coal eyes were the most appealing feature on him. She had never seen eyes like his before, splintering and piercing past the surface straight to the core. But as stunning as any rare black pearl, those eyes saw things no woman wanted revealed. She bet most females had little choice in the matter. This man took what he wanted and how he wanted without apology.

His mouth was a carved, sensual feast with a wicked sneer that spoke of hot sex and no rules, and the hard twist of good and bad played to women like the Pied Piper. A cold awareness rippled her nerve endings. Good thing men didn't affect her. She'd be burnt toast before they even negotiated on whatever the damn meeting was about.

Bulma straightened her shoulders and met his gaze head-on. "Good morning, Mr. Ouji. It's a pleasure to meet you." She closed the distance between them and stuck out her hand. He stood and grasped her hand in his. The handshake was impersonal while being too intimate. His skin was warm and rough to the touch, and he engulfed her hand as if claiming her body on his own terms.

Startled at her bizarre thoughts, she withdrew first and didn't realize she'd been holding her breath. Those gorgeous lips curved upward in a half smile. She didn't know if he was amused or pleased. Either way pissed her off. She immediately sensed the man was accustomed to winning. Comfortable in his own skin and entertained by mankind, as if humans on a stage put on a show in which he refused to partake. Well then, she needed to go on the offense quickly. Defense would bore him to tears and get her nowhere.

She took a seat, crossed her legs, and settled back in the chair with a relaxed sense of camaraderie she didn't feel. "I see you like games."

He cocked his head. The flare of surprise soothed her temper. "Depends on the game."

She offered a cool smile. "Chess." She pointed to the beautifully carved figures of a king and queen flanking a shelf of impressive leather books. The carved ivory and ebony pieces held exquisite detail and bespoke a man interested in mental challenges. "They're quite beautiful."

He rested his elbows on the polished surface and drummed his fingers. She refused to cower under his stare that threatened to shred the surface. When he finally spoke, his deep voice cloaked and stroked dark places she didn't realize she owned. "Do you play?"

"No."

"Why not?"

She spoke in a clipped voice. "Games don't interest me. I prefer a straightforward exchange of information for mutual benefit."

He quirked a brow. "Yet you are the CEO of a powerful company. Surely you must acknowledge there must always be a winner and a loser."

'Ah, he loves to spar.' She thought, as a deep satisfaction hummed through her. How rare to be able to match wits with a man who was completely unafraid. Most cowered under her chilly words or blustered like idiots to get a point across. No, she preferred a subtle wit as fine and sharp as a samurai's sword. She danced just out of his reach with her answer. "If you do your job well enough, your opponent won't even realize they've lost."

"I disagree. If your opponent is worthy, they will always face the truth that one party tops another. The queen must be stolen in order to win all."

She clicked open her briefcase as if bored now by the turn of conversation. The ruffle of papers cut through the pulsing silence, and she realized her palms were damp. How odd. Not nerves. Something else she couldn't quite pin down. "Queens may be sacrificed. She's the power player, but it all rests on the king. With a smart enough backup plan, the queen doesn't have to destroy the entire board."

His eyes darkened. Oh, yeah, no way could a woman work for this man. He should be the poster board image of what to avoid in teenage pregnancy. Just enough to tempt a female to jump over the edge of reason, no matter how hard the recovery from the fall. Fortunately, Bulma despised heights and avoided them at all costs.

"I thought you didn't play chess." Vegeta murmured.

"I don't." Bulma raised her chin. "But that doesn't mean I don't study the rules. Just in case."

His low laugh slid through the room and stroked between her legs. She acknowledged her body's physical reaction even as her mind remained detached. "You are a fascinating woman, Ms. Briefs." His tongue rolled over her name and gave it a whole new meaning. Too many men used romance and intimacy to demean women in business. But Vegeta combined respect with a leashed sensuality, keeping her off-balance. "I'm glad I followed my instincts to give you the first opportunity to work for me."

She closed her briefcase and settled it back on the floor, then thumbed through the file in a deliberate power play.

"While I appreciate being first in line, I would have preferred knowing the details of the offer. I do hate wasting my morning on a deal not worthy of my time. I'm sure you understand, Mr. Ouji."

"Vegeta." He rested his chin on his fingers. "I'm not much of a formal person, so the least we can do is be on a first-name basis."

"Fine."

"Say it."

She looked up. "Excuse me?"

An odd tension stretched between them, as if a preliminary game was being played, and she didn't know the stakes. "My name." He instructed softly. "Say it."

She blinked. Warmth flooded her body and made her skin itch. Her stomach dropped, then settled. She didn't want to and opened her mouth to gloss over the whole weird exchange, but found herself responding to his command. "Vegeta."

His name stumbled across her lips and she cursed herself for the move. Satisfaction and something deeper flickered over his face, but he only nodded in approval. "Thank you."

She cleared her throat and refocused on the file. "Now that we're properly acquainted, I'd appreciate moving forward. It seems your reputation precedes you."

"In a good way, I hope." He drawled.

"Mostly."

Another short laugh. "You are quite different from your old man."

She ignored the throbbing wound and managed a tight smile. "In a good way I hope."

He frowned and leaned a bit closer. "Did that comment bother you? I only meant your focus proved an asset once your father decided to step down and let you take over. He's lucky to have you."

The wound softened to a slight bruise. Why did he seem so concerned about upsetting her? As if he held the ability to poke at her secret insecurities without the drive to expose and hurt? As if he just wanted to know.

"Of course I'm not bothered. I consider myself lucky to run Capsule Corp. I don't think I realized you had met my father."

The harsh lines of his face softened a bit. "He and my father ran in the same circles and even dealt business together. Over the years in attending certain business functions I have gotten to know him. He's told me about you and your sister, and I actually met her once at a charity function last year."

"Interesting." She murmured. She then motioned to the manila folder in her lap. "Well you're not the only one who has an advantage. My research began when your father started taking over hotels and transforming them into profitable entities. When he passed you took over at the age of twenty-three, and from what I saw, you've raised the bar and even exceeded the quota your father wanted to set within two years since you took over."

"Excellent work on doing your research. Now since we both know a little about each other in our work, let's talk business shall we. I have a proposition for you, a merger of sorts."

She crossed her arms in front of her chest and didn't respond. He seemed intrigued with her control and patience. She wondered what type of women he was used to dealing with in his world. "I'm about to unveil a chain of my own signature luxury hotels. For the past few years, I've bought property in prime locations in main cities throughout Europe and the United States. The plan is ambitious and begins with hotels opening up in the United States, where I'll build in New York, LA, and California. Then I'll move to Europe, mainly Milan, Rome, Venice, and Florence. And lastly I'll move into England with three locations including London."

He waited for a comment. She remained silent.

"The hotel chain will be called Black Pearl. I've been working on the concept for years, a vision, so to speak, and have a team ready to move fast. I've decided to begin in New York for a variety of reasons. The statistics are quite high for travelers in those areas and the need for something extra. I'll be combining a line of exclusive spas and catering and I prefer to work with specific vendors who can sign an exclusive contract to my line. My intention is for the people I do business with to work for some of the most sought-after companies in the world. Travelers will beg to experience the uniqueness of Black Pearl's assets. I'll launch this in three main components: one, the linens will be handmade and exclusive. Luxurious robes, slippers, towels, beds, and sheets. Component two is delicacies: shops with fine gold, customized jewelry, designer fashion, you name it. And the last component is the spa and restaurants. I've already signed contracts to incorporate the finest dining and best relaxation methods in the world. The two chefs I stole turned down television deals to come with me. In fact, I did see that your family started branching out towards the food industry two years ago."

"Yes." Bulma replied. "I suggested that instead of just creating capsules and other forms of technology that we step out and enter into a whole new field."

She had come up with the idea four years ago, and her father had taken the idea with splendor. With his enthusiasm, Bulma got started and after much hard work, Blue Lilies, became a great success. The establishment was going on two years now since they started, and they were making excellent money. People had to wait a month in advance just to get a taste of their food. They even had to expand and find a bigger building with the amount of people the received on a daily basis.

He nodded. "And that is where you come in."

She arched her eyebrow slightly. "Go on."

"I want to sign a chain of restaurants to provide exclusive food at all Black Pearl hotels. This will encompass catering events of all kinds, including weddings. I need an exclusive, high-quality eatery that can provide products to all restaurants, room service, and a pedestrian shop for impulse buys for sweets and other confectionaries."

Her mind sifted through the possibilities. The plan was risky. Almost crazy in the current economy. Yet, the simplicity of exclusiveness and the locations screamed genius. If the components worked together, Vegeta could launch one of the most successful brand names in the world.

She pursed her lips in thought. "Do the chefs you contracted understand the terms? Most want total control of all food."

"They all know the rules. I don't want some great cooks who can bake good desserts, or make a great steak, and one pastry chef. I need a well-oiled chain that can give anything my clients want in a variety of outlets. And I want the best…and Blue Lilies is the best."

Pleasure cut deep, but she ignored it. The man was a genius, but she'd learned early there were always hidden clauses in the deal of a lifetime. "I'm impressed. Of course I'll need to see your development plans, timetables, and locations to get a better feel if this would be right for us."

"Of course."

"Estimated profit margins are key."

"Yes."

"There's just one word that's bothering me in your proposal."

"What's that?"

"Exclusive."

His gaze dropped to her mouth. The hungry predator look surprised her. She wasn't a woman who normally inspired lust. Challenge, yes. But in a business meeting, she was always able to detach the feminine part of her, so attraction never became a problem. For the first time, a matching need flared deep in her belly in an attempt to claw free. What would it be like to be on the receiving end of all that pent-up male attention? He stroked his chin in contemplation while he studied her. Those fingers skimmed lightly over a clean-shaven jaw and right under his lower lip. Was his skin as delectable and built like an Adonis everywhere under that black Gucci suit? Would his fingers play a woman's body and coax a delicious river of need from between her thighs?

She pushed down a sigh. Just a fantasy. The moment he kissed her and found she wasn't the normal weak-kneed female he preferred, he'd lose interest. They all did. And Bulma didn't blame them. Her inability to experience an orgasm or a deep connection with a man had frustrated her for years until she vowed to cut out that part of her life in order to keep her sanity. Her mind might have craved physical intimacy, but her body was steeped in ice. After many failed attempts to feel something, anything, from the opposite sex, she stopped whining and started living…without sex. But, what the hell was she doing thinking about Vegeta naked anyway? Had she gone crazy?

"You have a problem with being exclusive?" With a lean, masculine grace he pushed back in his chair and hooked his ankle over his knee. The casual gesture contradicted the steely question wrapped in fuzzy cotton. Her mouth dried up. Why did it suddenly seem they were talking about a whole different meaning of the word?

She gave a delicate shrug. "Sometimes. Multiple partners even out the risk."

A wolfish grin spread over his mouth. "Exactly. The risk of failure. Making a commitment to the right partner pushes the percentage of success to a higher level."

"Or the attachment can equal bankruptcy." The blood pounded and rushed through her veins as they thrust and parried in round two of their mental game. "It's happened too many times."

He dropped his voice. Sticky honey and hot oil mixed and slid together in a delight to her ears and the pulsing center between her legs. "You chose wrong before and got screwed. But that won't happen with me."

Her skin prickled and her breasts ached behind her proper white bra. Bulma had the sudden urge to rip off her clothes and offer herself to him on his desk. Spread her thighs and bend to his will. Horror mingled with surprise at the primitive reaction he coaxed. Thank God she'd learned early to control her breath to calm her nerves in public situations. She forced a small smile. "Confident, are we? Good, I look for that in a partner. I assume you have a formal proposal I can go over?"

He pushed the black leather binder across the desk. She scooped it up, gave it a cursory glance, and tucked it away in her briefcase. "I'll get back to you this week."

"No, tomorrow."

She frowned. "Impossible. I need lawyers to look it over, bring it to the board members, and I have to talk with my sister." Her older sister, Tights, was thrilled to run the establishment while Bulma was the second in command of their new business venture.

He cut his hand through the air. "Tights might be the head, but I know your father praises you in your work and how you helped with Capsule Corp. So if this is going to work, I need to know you're my point person for everything. You make the decisions. Democracy is good, but sometimes a monarchy gets better results." Something flashed in his eyes, deep and sexual and wicked. "I'll have to prove that to you soon."

She refused to clear her throat or act timid. "You run the risk of me saying no to the whole thing."

"Yes, but I still need an answer tomorrow. I'll take you to dinner."

She shook her head. "No need, Mr. Ouji, I—"

"Vegeta."

Her belly dropped at his commanding tone. "Vegeta. I'll need until five p.m."

"Perfect. Whatever your decision is, we'll celebrate over a glass of wine and good food. I'll pick you up at seven."

The situation tilted, and she grabbed for footing. "I don't think that's necessary."

"I do. Whether or not we do business, I've had the opportunity to dine with your father and even your sister. And I would like to share one meal with you. We can even talk about other future business opportunities. Would that be too much to ask?"

She felt like an idiot. How did she fight such a reasonable request without looking like a total bitch? But something told her she didn't want to be alone with him, especially in her apartment. Inviting him in seemed deadly.

Her tongue stumbled over the words. "Fine. You can pick me up at the office. I'll be working."

He bowed his head as if it had been her idea the entire time. "Very good. I'll be looking forward to your decision."

She rose from the chair and decided to avert the whole handshaking thing again. Her cowardly move caused his lip to quirk in a half smirk, but he stayed behind his desk and watched her leave. Once again, the door swung silently open, as if finally allowing her escape. Did he have a remote under his desk so he could screw with his clients? The whole meeting rattled her usually calm nerves. Bulma dug deep, straightened her shoulders, and marched out of the office without a glance back.

* * *

He wanted her.

Vegeta stared at the closed door and tried to make sense of his rioting emotions. Her scent lingered in the air. He dragged in a breath and tried to capture her essence. The sweetness of vanilla. The exotic kick of coconut. A heady contradiction like the woman herself. Shit. This was going to be more complicated than he thought.

He rose and paced. Wondering if he should withdraw the offer. He expected certain things from the youngest sister of the Briefs family. A reserved demeanor, a sharp mind, and a ruthless sense of organization and leadership. Assets he admired and needed in a business partner long term. His conversations with Dr. Briefs suggested that she would be the perfect fit, and that his youngest daughter was fully capable of making all the decisions. However, he'd never expected to be attracted to her.

Vegeta knew he possessed an uncanny ability with women. Part gift, part training, every nuance of expression was analyzed. Body language, words, gestures. Especially the eyes, which he believed were the window to the soul. Once someone dove in, all she'd discover was a black pit of hell. He shook off the gloomy thought and yanked himself back to the problem.

The moment she walked in and greeted him in her cool, possessed tone, he wanted to claim her. Her surface image screamed look, but don't touch. Glance, but don't study. Question, but don't ponder. She wore her hair pulled back from her face with only a few strands escaping to cradle her cheeks. When she turned her head, the light caught the glimmer of blue strands glistening like sapphires in the midst of proper conservative pearls.

Those same blue eyes were large and dominated her face. A strong nose, chin, and defined cheekbones set off a mouth so soft and plump he wanted to spend hours just sucking and licking. The fact that she didn't even accentuate them with lipstick made her mouth even more tempting.

She wore her clothes with the command of a woman who liked classic, expensive fashion and knew how to carry it off. She had walked across the room with purpose in her green pumps, as if her body were only along for the ride, and almost a separate entity. As if her mind and body were completely disconnected in a dueling battle. The thrust of her small, high breasts under her dress and the smooth peek of warm pale skin as she crossed her legs revved his body to immediate attention. Full staff. Thank God the desk was high, because wouldn't that have been an embarrassing moment. He couldn't remember the last time a woman turned him on by just walking into a room.

He remembered that her fingers were strong, smooth, and trembled ever so slightly in his grip. She dominated the challenging conversation that most men wouldn't have been able to follow, and she never lost her footing. Yet when he'd made his comment about her being different from her family, she'd stiffened and pain had flared in her azure eyes. Beneath that tight, buttoned-up demeanor was a tangle of passion, emotion, and mess. The best decision lay before him. Cancel the dinner, back away from the deal and move on.

A woman like Bulma had the power to wreck his concentration, screw with his business, and make his life miserable. Yet something pulled him to her. Twisted his insides with a raw need to strip her surface bare and make her face who she really was. The way she responded to his demand that she say his name spoke volumes. She had natural submissive tendencies, which intrigued his dominant side.

What would she be like in bed? Her mind was so bent on constant control, he bet she had a hard time focusing on the pleasures of her body. He could teach her.

His blood pounded and heated through his veins. She wouldn't be an easy match, though. She'd be one major pain in the ass. Did he have time for this now? His long-held dream of building his own hotel empire lay right before him. Tying her up in his business could prove risky. But damn, tying her up in any way, shape, or form was too tempting.

He realized the past few years he'd been skimming the edges with women. He played at relationships to a point he wouldn't know a real connection if it was advertised in blinding neon. Work had been his driving force for the better half of his life, and it remained his sole demanding mistress. His forays into pleasure were set ahead of time with ironclad rules. But many women slipped into clinginess and emotion he couldn't handle, forcing him to end the relationship quickly. Bulma might be able to offer him a bit more depth, with the ability to keep business separate from pleasure. Most women couldn't handle the limitations. But he bet Bulma Briefs handled any challenge thrown at her.

Vegeta tapped his finger against his lips and analyzed all the options. Such a delicate line to walk between business and pleasure. Snakes twisted in a pit beneath him, ready for even one misstep. She'd need to be handled with kid gloves at first, before he switched to the delicious sting of the whip. He needed to learn what drove her, what she hid, and how best to yank away years of barriers. Was it too risky, especially when he was about to unveil his dream and his only reason for survival all these years?

The answer coursed through him with a bone-deep knowledge he never questioned.

And he made the decision he'd wanted to from the moment he met her.

* * *

BlueMoon Goddess: So what did you guys think? Should I continue or not? Let me know in your reviews, okay. Also, I know some are wondering about my other story, 'Her forced marriage and the prince's baby,' don't worry, I'm in the process of typing that out as we speak and should have it up and ready in two weeks.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ, its character's or the book "The Marriage Merger" by Jennifer Probst

Summary: Having been burned by relationships before, Bulma Briefs has stayed on her family's businesses, keeping work her main priority. That was until Vegeta Ouji, lured her out of her workaholic lifestyle with an irresistible offer. She shouldn't be trusting him, but his powerful onyx gaze has her rethinking the best use of a conference room, is the riskiest proposition.

* * *

Bulma glanced up at the clock on her wall, seeing that it read four-fifty-eight p.m.

The papers were spread neatly in front of her on the conference table. The room was quiet, and just the hum of low chatter and ringing phones drifted in waves. She had informed the board, spoken with the lawyers, made a call to Tights, pounded out numbers nonstop through the night and refused to sleep. And through it all came up with one decision…she'd be crazy not to take the deal. It would be a great opportunity to do something on a global scale for Blue Lilies. She'd figured going after the hotels, the big ones, was a great opportunity for the restaurant to branch out.

Plus, it'll give her a time to get over the failure of her last deal for Capsule Corp. The hurt still stung over losing that deal. She'd been completely prepared, and every pore of her body had craved a final deal. A month of research, endless paperwork, little sleep, and various social outings had yielded rejection by the esteemed Kingston- Enterprise. She'd been so sure of success. Instead, she was left with nothing but the image of confessing her failure.

She hated the simmering knowledge that The King's executive team didn't believe a woman could give them what they desired. Oh, in bed, yes, but in business, no. Instead, they gave the deal to another company who boasted no vision and a patriarch grandfather. She realized too late Kings-Enterprise wanted full control over her. Once they'd realized she had a strong voice, they'd dropped her contract without another word. But now she faced something much better than that deal. Vegeta's contract could launch Blue Lilies into the world of luxurious hotels. There were risks, though. With an exclusive contract, she'd be unable to install any other restaurants. She'd be locked up with Black Pearl, and if he failed, so would she.

The gamble lay before her in all shades of gray. However, excitement pulsed through her. When was the last time she'd gotten fired up about a deal? She desperately needed a challenge to focus on to launch her out of the current self-pity tour she hosted every evening. There was nothing better than a shot of adrenaline on a new contract.

Five p.m.

The intercom buzzed. She hit the button. "Yes?"

"Ms. Briefs, Vegeta Ouji is on the line. May I put him through?"

She shook her head and fought a smile. "Yes, thank you. You can put him through."

The connection hummed. His voice spilled like gravel and silk over the phone. "Have you made a decision?"

"Prompt, aren't you?"

"Always." He paused. "We can play another round and drag the discussion out over dinner. Or, I can persuade you in the manner you need. I'm quite good at persuasion."

His arrogance was overwhelming and sexy as hell. Damn, he'd be fun to work with. "No need. I've been wined and dined by the best. Never made a decision based on such techniques either."

His dark laugh was like a subtle threat. "You're not familiar with my moves."

"I've found most male moves overrated."

"Wonderful. I do love a challenge."

Bulma gave a long-suffering sigh. Better to get the truth out over dinner. If Vegeta thought he'd get some extra side benefits while they worked together, he was surely mistaken. She hoped he wouldn't get cranky and brusque like the other rejects. "Trust me, it was simple truth and not meant to wave a red flag in front of you. My answer is yes."

Silence fell between them. She waited him out. "Yes?"

"Do I need to repeat myself? I'll sign the contract. You can still meet me here at Capsule Corp. at seven so we can celebrate. A pleasure conversing with you, Mr. Ouji."

She clicked off her earpiece, satisfaction surging. Her tiny rebellion with his name may have been childish, but well worth it. Obviously, he was way too used to women jumping at his call and throwing off their clothes. Time he realized he couldn't get anyone he wanted because the angels bestowed him the gift of hotness.

Regret then nudged her. What would it feel like just once to have a strong physical reaction to a man without worrying about freezing up? For it to be simple and clean. Just nakedness and orgasms and an early morning getaway. Pathetic. If that was her only deficiency in life, she could call herself blessed. At least she had a juicy new deal ahead of her, with long hours of work and a deep satisfaction that called to her. Success, completion and achievement. It was enough. She repeated the mantra to herself as she got back to work.

* * *

The hours flew by when Bulma took her last two minutes to smooth back her hair, re-knot her scarf, and tuck her folders away. Vegeta had arrived on time and in full male glory, her gaze raking over him with a hint of crankiness. He stood in the doorway and refused to say a word. His quiet arrogance radiated in waves around his figure, and she fought the need to drop her head in recognition. Weirdness. He wore a charcoal-gray suit with a black tie. The ruthless severity of the suit contradicted with the combination of raw sex and power cloaked in masculine grace transfixed her for just a moment. She mentally shook herself. No more drooling. Defenses up. Game on!

"You like being in charge, don't you, Bulma?"

The stroke of her name was deliberate and effective. She forced a pleasant smile. "Doesn't every woman?"

"You won't let me see your private office. So I've been delegated to picking you up for dinner in your conference room."

She grabbed her red Fendi bag and closed the distance between them. His body pumped out heat, and she had to tilt her head back a few inches in order to meet his gaze. God, he smelled good. Like coffee and spices, rich and all male. But she wouldn't let herself be in such an intimate position with him. She had to set boundaries immediately, or he'd swallow her whole. "I may have agreed to the contract, but I never invite anyone into my private space."

He didn't budge an inch. "Ever?" He asked softly.

"Our working relationship doesn't guarantee a friendship, Vegeta. You may have met my father, and we may be going to dinner, but I don't know you well enough for anything more."

He seemed to analyze her words, then nodded. "Fair enough. I figured we'd walk to Rosso's."

"Perfect."

He ushered her out of the building as if he were in charge. His hand rested on the curve of her elbow, his fingers strong but gentle as he guided her over the uneven cobblestone pathways as they walked toward the restaurant.

When they arrived, the restaurant was already crowded, but they were immediately ushered to a table in the corner, and Vegeta ordered a bottle of champagne. The simple clean lines of the restaurant pleased her. The crisp white linens, polished floors, high ceilings, and candles scattering throughout the dimly lit interior. She chatted with the waiter, ordered appetizers, and began to relax.

"No briefcase?" He noted. He lifted the delicate champagne glass to his lips and took a swallow. The imprint of his mouth made a strange shudder squeeze through her. The heat rushed through the vents to ward off the chilly evening. She unbuttoned her suit jacket and hung it on the chair.

"No need. I already memorized most of the figures."

He grinned. "Bet you have. Did you have the support of the board?"

"Enough to move forward. It's a risk, but calculated. You have an ambitious plan for opening. Will you be ready in six months?"

"Absolutely."

She tilted her head and reached for a piece of bread. The warm dough broke open, and she drizzled fruity olive oil over the edges. "A dozen things could go wrong and delay your plans."

He watched her with a fierce intensity she wasn't used to. Most men never gave her such full attention. She wondered if it was one of his trademark moves he used to seduce women. "I've planned for all contingencies." He finally said. "There will be no mistakes."

His words dug deep. He needed this as much as she. The knowledge soothed her nerves, and she reached for her glass. Perhaps they were more similar than she'd originally thought. Vegeta wouldn't lose his focus over a silly challenge to bed her. Women were definitely a low priority for him.

She smiled with relief. "Good, then we both have something to prove."

"Yes, it seems we do." Onyx eyes gleamed. "The question is why?"

Her fingers closed around the last chunk of bread. She hoped he didn't spot her tremble. "Doesn't everyone want to make a fortune in business? Take over the world? It's the human condition."

He refused to follow her lead. "Is that what you want? To make your mark?" His eyes burned. "Tell me, why did the deal with Kings-Enterprise fall through with Capsule Corp.?"

She kept her gaze averted and focused on the bread. "I'm surprised you don't know the details already."

"Oh, I do know. I would like to hear your version of the events."

Her temper nipped, but she answered with calm. "They decided I wasn't the woman they originally believed I was. The team had specific ideas and wanted no challenges. In other words, I wouldn't have a say in my own company."

"But you would have received prestige. Profits. Growth."

A tiny frown marred his brow, and she had the uneasy feeling he was digging for something she couldn't understand.

"Isn't that a big enough payoff? Worth the sacrifice?"

"No. I haven't gotten to this point to step back and let others take over." She sipped her champagne to settle her nerves. "I'll agree to be exclusive, but I won't give up my rights of control. Ever."

A strange flare of lust heated his eyes, then disappeared so quickly she swore it was just a trick of the candlelight. She wasn't a woman to inspire such devotion, especially with such a primal force of a man.

"I don't intend to partner with someone who has no opinion or spine. Like I stated before, I need a leader who is my go-to person on all aspects. I will use every bit of intellect and talent you have. By surrounding myself with such a team, I'll be able to lead us, but be warned, final approval will always be made by me."

Her heart hammered, and she squeezed her thighs together as a jolt of arousal penetrated her core. Holy shit. What was with this crazy reaction to his chauvinistic demands? She always hated men who thought they could command others just because they owned a penis. She ignored her body and pushed on. "Understood, as long as there is always a discussion with anything affecting Blue Lilies."

"Of course. So, once we show Kings-Enterprises what fools they were for letting you go with Capsule Corp., what's next? Will this deal finally be enough for you?"

Her throat tightened. How dare he try to probe as if he had a right to know her thoughts? When she was finally able to gather her words, her voice was laced with ice. "Still invading personal space? My motivations are mine and not your business. How about you share yours? Will Black Pearl finally be enough for you if it becomes a success?"

"I hope so." He said. "But I won't know until I get there."

The waiter interrupted with a variety of steaming plates. Crispy octopus paired with buffalo mozzarella and salty anchovies and capers. Bite-size beef ravioli in a creamy butter and thyme sauce, grilled eggplant and zucchini drizzled with oil and an array of salts. An odd intimacy buzzed around them, as if sharing secrets at the back of an Italian restaurant bonded them. What was going on? She'd gone on hundreds of business dinners to discuss contracts. Met many attractive, dynamic men who initially interested her. The outcome always made her back away, but Vegeta challenged her at every turn and seemed to crave something more than the others. As if he not only wanted to strip her clothes off to view her naked body, but like he wanted to delve into her soul. Hmph, ridiculous.

She fought a shiver and bit into her eggplant. The toasty skin swirled with the pungent flavors of garlic and tomato sauce, soothed her temper. "Why did you pick New York to unveil your first hotels? Wouldn't you be more comfortable back home in California?"

He waited to respond, obviously enjoying his food, which gave him extra points. Most people appreciated vast quantities with too much garnish and detail. She preferred the simpler, richer ingredients in a meal that satisfied a deeper hunger in the body.

"I don't have a home."

His simple confession ripped past her ears. Her fork paused midair. "What do you mean? It was said you lived in California, since the main headquarters is there."

One broad shoulder lifted in a half shrug. "I lived in California when I was a child. However, after my father passed I didn't feel right living there." Shadows flickered over his face. "Now I live in whatever hotel I'm working on and have no permanent address. It allows me freedom, a luxurious lifestyle, and expertise. I've also spent a few years at the Carlton, so I'm quite comfortable in New York. I decided it would be poetic to begin here. I usually stay still for about a year. Longer than that and I'm ready to leave."

Her heart flinched. Family and home were part of her blood, and she couldn't imagine not having a built-in support system. Plus she had no desire to move anywhere else. New York was in her blood. She couldn't picture being anywhere else. Vegeta's casual reference to his wandering tendencies only confirmed a deeper loneliness he didn't seem to care about. Especially since his father died. There was no reason for her to care either. The man didn't need any extra female support. He'd use any weakness to his advantage, including the possibility of her attraction. Bulma tamped down on an inner smirk. If only he knew such a road would lead him nowhere.

"You never want more?" She asked. "A place to call yours?"

She immediately regretted the impulsive words. Heat flared and crackled with amber flames, hotter than the one-hundred-proof whiskey her dad used to sneak in. Vegeta's lips twisted in a sensual sneer. "Overrated. I've learned to appreciate the present in all aspects. Taste, texture, sight, smell. I revel in everything given to me, because there's no guarantee it'll be there tomorrow. My home is my current location, nothing more, nothing less." Raw passion flicked from across the table and singed her like droplets of burning water.

"Except Black Pearl. It's the one thing I want to say is a constant. Everything else eventually withers."

"Even love?" The words flew from her lips, and she almost gasped in horror. Her cheeks heated. Oh God, what had she done?

She must be having some kind of midlife crisis. Her normal temperament and control slipped around this man in a way that terrified her. She waited for his fury at such an intimate question, but his fork paused midair, as if he was just as shocked as she was. "What did you say?"

She forced a half laugh. "I'm sorry—please disregard that question. I don't know what came over me."

"I think I do." His gaze stripped, probed, and tore. It took all her strength not to buckle from the intensity. "I appreciate a woman who asks whatever is on her mind. There is more strength in honesty than in pretty words that never scratch the surface of what's real."

"There's no need to—"

"But I will. No, Bulma, I don't believe in love. Never have. I believe in passion and lust, honesty and loyalty. I believe in hard work and sacrifice. I believe in enjoying the gifts of this world, but I don't believe in love."

Her fingers trembled. She reached out and drained her glass, trying not to show him how his words affected her. Had she ever met another man with such a powerful presence? As if no topic was off-limits, and he was willing to explore every dark hidden corner of her body and soul with a fierce pleasure? Yet he calmly shared one of his secrets like a gift.

He didn't believe in love.

She waited for the rush of relief but only experienced an odd uneasiness. Why did his confession bother her? An answering grief rose in her gut to mourn for a man she did not know, a man who asserted he experienced no gentler emotions. She ached to know more, but the longing could only end badly. He watched her, unblinking, from across the table, and she made her decision. Their relationship must be held strictly to business. Nothing more, and it was time she laid out the ground rules.

She pushed her plate away and snapped back to attention. "Thank you for sharing, but my question was uncalled for, and I apologize. I think moving forward we should keep the topics of conversation to work."

His lip quirked and just like that, his emotions shifted back to distant amusement. Damn him for confusing her. Damn him for making her act like a fool. "Such politeness. I'm sure I made you uncomfortable talking about things that are . . . messy."

She managed not to flinch, but her temper rose. "This will be a long journey, and we need to work closely together. Distractions from either of us would be unwelcome at this point."

"Such as sex?"

This time, she jerked. Her glass tipped, but she grabbed it in time and righted it. Naked humor carved out the lines of his face. "Do you like to shock women, Vegeta?" She mocked. "You won't find me that easy to manage. I've been harassed, propositioned, and insulted, and I've dealt with an array of masculine temper tantrums. I've seen it all and can handle it. I prefer to keep our relationship mutually beneficial for all involved, but if you want to play hardball, that's fine, too. Understood?"

Vegeta studied the woman across the table. Her gorgeous blue eyes snapped with leashed anger and a banked sensuality she kept ruthlessly in check.

It was official.

He was crazy about her.

Her mind alone brought him to ecstatic heights he'd missed. The thrust and parry of conversation engaged his intellect, while his body hummed with pleasure from her physical presence. She was his feminine equal in all forms except her refusal to admit she wanted him. But she did. Every hitched breath she tried to mask played like Mozart to his ears. Her control was fierce, but he spotted breaks in her armor in ways she hadn't counted on. The quick flare of interest in her eyes at the mention of the word sex. The slight tremble in her fingers as she gripped the fork. Didn't she know her proper white bra against a silk white blouse was a man's private fantasy? The barest shadow of her nipples pushed against her bra and begged for freedom. She had a delicious habit of running her tongue over her bottom lip that forced a man to imagine what she'd taste like. And that damn scarf? He'd put it to much more practical uses then entwining it around her delicate neck for fashion purposes. Namely making sure she couldn't move while he stripped her of that very proper blouse and bra and pleasured her breasts. Slowly…on his terms. Of course, the most intriguing part was her refusal to acknowledge any of it.

Her body was in lockdown. How sweet to imagine breaking her out of that prison and being the one who reaped the benefit? He wondered what fool convinced her to ignore her physical need. Why else would a vibrant, sophisticated woman hide behind work? He'd pushed during dinner because he needed a full analysis. She was right, though. He'd never risk the contract to scratch an itch, and he bet she dealt with a lot of men who treated her like shit. Perhaps it was time to tell her a bit more of his truth so she clearly knew his motivations.

For now, she deserved an answer.

"I never meant to offend you, Bulma." Her name melted over his tongue like a Godiva chocolate. Sweet, dark and rich. "Let's get something straight. I have no need to threaten or bully a woman into bed. I enjoy sex and giving pleasure. I find you fascinating, complex, and hot as hell. I also think you may be the only woman I've met in the past few years who made me crave to break a few rules just to put my hands on her…in her…over her. But if you go screaming foul play and harassment, I'll politely back away and leave you alone, understand? Now breathe."

At his command, the air let loose from her lungs in a rush. She sat frozen in her chair, eyes wide with a combination of shock, confusion, and a touch of fear. The fear mixed with a flash of pure longing. Yes, she wanted him, too. Interesting. Why wouldn't she act on it? Why did a man showing interest freak her out so much?

The waiter glided by, cleared their plates, and asked if they wanted dessert.

"No." She said firmly.

"Tiramisu, please." Vegeta countered. "Two espressos with Sambuca."

Bulma tossed him a dirty look, and he struggled with the instinct to kiss it right off her. How could a woman who used no lipstick have such a succulent mouth? All pouty and pale pink. "I hope this isn't going to be a precursor of your need to run things." She said. "Though I appreciate your forthrightness regarding the initial attraction to me, I assure you it will fade. I have no time to engage in affairs."

Her prim tone made a surge of lust hit his gut and spread. He shifted in his chair and adjusted the napkin.

"Why do you think it will fade?"

Her gaze shifted. She threw back her shoulders, but he caught the tension in each fine bone of her body. "It always does."

"Do you want me?"

This time, she couldn't hold back a gasp. "We just met yesterday. I don't go jumping into bed with strange men or make decisions regarding my attraction after one dinner."

"Sometimes that's the best time to trust your instincts. The moment we rationalize chemistry, we risk losing it forever."

His words seemed to strike a chord. Regret dimmed the light in her eyes. Protectiveness surged through him and rattled his calm. He ached to pull her into his arms and hold her, rock her, and soothe the sadness lurking beneath the cool surface. But she didn't belong to him, so he had no rights…yet.

Dessert arrived, and she chose to keep her silence. They nibbled on the cocoa biscuit and savored the rich cream of soaked ladyfingers and cinnamon. The sting of liquor in the dark espresso brew hit Vegeta's belly hard and heated his veins. He watched as Bulma's thoughts scrambled, evident in the slight frown marring her brow and the concentration stamped on her face. The bill came and he paid, sparing her a quick warning glance when she opened her mouth to protest. When the dessert plate was scraped clean and the cups emptied, she patted her lips with the napkin and met his gaze.

"I think we're going to make a great team." She said slowly. "But I'm not interested in bringing this into the bedroom. I have my reasons, and I appreciate your candor. You're an attractive man, and in other circumstances, I would jump at the chance to engage in a hot affair. Please respect my decision, and don't push me any further. Just…don't."

Her voice broke slightly on the last word. His heart squeezed with a need he didn't recognize, but he knew the rules. Created the rules. Both parties must be willing in order to move forward. An element of trust proved key to keeping the relationship burning at a high flame without blazing. The alpha in him howled with lust and challenge to change her mind and make her beg for torturing him. He waited for the mess of emotions to finish racing through him before he wrested control and blanked out his thoughts.

A smile curved his lips. "As you wish." He murmured.

Her body loosened. Her tongue flicked across her lower lip again, and she smiled. "Thank you."

He nodded, and she rose, shrugged on her jacket and grabbed her purse. He guided her out of the restaurant with a hand at her elbow and tried to calm the rush of adrenaline tightening his muscles and strangling his breath. His last thought flashed like a mantra over and over again.

Let the challenge begin.

* * *

BlueMoon Goddess: Well it seems like the challenge will begin now. Wonder how long it'll take until Bulma gives in and starts mixing business with pleasure? Also, I'm glad you all enjoyed the first chapter and like the story so far. And not to worry, I know some of you are anxiously waiting for the next chapter of 'Her Forced Marriage and the Prince's Baby,' not to worry, I'm currently working on it and should hopefully have it up this weekend or next. Until next time guys! ^_^


	3. Chapter 3

BlueMoon Goddess: Hey guys! Since I got such great reviews and everyone was already looking forward to see how things were unfolding, I decided to upload the next chapter! So I hope you guys enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ, its character's or the book "The Marriage Merger" by Jennifer Probst

Summary: Having been burned by relationships before, Bulma Briefs has stayed on her family's businesses, keeping work her main priority. That was until Vegeta Ouji, lured her out of her workaholic lifestyle with an irresistible offer. She shouldn't be trusting him, but his powerful onyx gaze has her rethinking the best use of a conference room, is the riskiest proposition.

* * *

Bulma picked her head up and stretched the kinks from her neck. The stack of files was only half cleared, and her cup of cappuccino had long grown cold. A dull throb behind her eyes warned her time was almost up. My God, how long had she been working? A quick glance at her watch confirmed four steady hours with no break. A sigh broke from her lips and surprised her. Usually she enjoyed her Saturday mornings in her apartment, taking care of all the loose ends she had no time to close during the week. Coffee, paper, her laptop, a little music, and she was content. Except…she stared out her window. The gleam of sun in the unpredicted month of April strained from the thick clouds in a screw-you gesture. She unfurled her legs from her chair and strode over to the window, peering at the scene below her.

She pressed her palm to the cool pane and pondered the idea. Funny, since her last encounter with Vegeta, the rare edge of wildness nipped at her usual logical self, daring her to break routine and echo the sentiment of the current weather.

Screw it. Work could wait.

She made the decision and didn't look back. She was going riding for the rest of the afternoon. Her fingers itched to grab the bars of her bike and stop thinking for a little while. With her consistent workaholic tendencies and slight OCD, she tipped the scales of exhaustion too many times.

At least she'd found an acceptable outlet other than therapy.

Motorcycles.

She paused to fix the slight tilt of the three photos on the mantel and headed to the bedroom. She changed in record time, donning supple Prada pants, boots, and a simple sweater. She shrugged on her leather jacket, took her helmet down from the top of the closet, stuffed her phone in her hobo bag, and left.

She walked the necessary blocks until she came to the small storage garage where she kept her bike. The wind was frisky, but she'd layered enough to stay decently warm for the trip. Mentally calculating the miles she wanted to accomplish, she decided on the route that goes to Harriman State Park. She stepped in front of her secret obsession and her skin tingled as if she gazed at a lover.

Perfection.

Naked twisted metal and sleek black made up the machine, which was in a class by itself. The brand-new Moto Morini Corsaro had all the elements she admired and demanded in a bike. Speed, lightweight, agility, and raw, sexy, growling hp.

Her stomach dipped, and she tugged on her leather gloves. Her hidden obsession with fast bikes came straight from her years as a teenager. She had saw that someone was selling their 1976 BMW motorcycle R75/6. It was pretty bad shape, but she bought it anyway for a good price. She had spent that entire summer fixing that bike and it was one of the best summers of her teenage years. She still had that bike, but as she got older she wanted something better to go with her new style. Even though she rode it on special occasions, she'll always have love for her first set of wheels.

She lifted her leg to slide over the seat, and her cell rang. She almost ignored it, but too many years of habit took over, so she had to at least glance at the ID. She reached in her bag and pulled the phone out. After looking, she let her finger hesitate on the button only a second before pushing it.

"Yes?"

"Why don't you sound happier to hear from me?"

Bulma tamped down on her impatience and reminded herself this was the deal of the century. Politeness was key.

"I'm sorry, Vegeta, I was just getting ready to go out for a bit. How can I help you?"

"Oh, good. I need to go over something in the contract. Why don't you stop by my place and we'll finish it up?"

She scowled at the phone. "It's not a good time right now. Perhaps tomorrow?"

Silence hummed. An irritated masculine silence. "I'm not one to invade a business partner's personal life, but this is a huge undertaking for Black Pearl. I need to know you're on board in this delicate time one hundred percent."

She practically spit into the receiver. "I've just spent the bulk of my Saturday at the computer. I'm completely on board, so to speak. Can we settle it over the phone?"

"No. Where are you going? Can I meet you?"

She stared at her bike with a lustful need that shook her bones. "I'm going riding for the next few hours. How about I stop by afterward and we'll settle the items up for negotiation?"

"Riding what? A bicycle?"

She couldn't help the automatic scoff that came from her mouth. "No, a motorcycle."

He paused for a beat. "Perfect. Give me twenty minutes and I'll meet you at Harriman State Park."

She gaped. "What? No—no, you can't go with me. I'm going motorcycle riding."

"I heard you the first time. I promise not to bully you with my bike. See you soon."

The phone clicked.

She blinked and tried desperately to keep her sanity. This was not happening. Her peaceful, stress-blowing bike ride was turning into a business trip with a man she needed to avoid at all costs. She analyzed the options of not showing or calling back to cancel, but she already sensed the domineering man wouldn't answer. And if she didn't show up for their impromptu meeting, he could decide to pull the contract.

Bulma blew out a breath of disgust and climbed on the bike. The low thrum of the engine kicked into gear, and she took off toward the center of town, weaving expertly through traffic and keeping her speed down until she hit open turf and let it rip. She gave him credit. Her watch just hit the twenty mark when she saw him pull up. She tried hard not to show any surprise at his choice of ride. She'd expected a brash Harley, but damn him, he'd managed to up his game without even trying.

She flipped up her visor and flicked him a cool glance.

"Nice bike. Where's your Harley?"

The total hotness of male perfection on the MV Agusta F4CC was criminal. In faded, tight jeans, a leather bomber jacket, and vintage riding boots, he cut a bad-boy-meets-surfer figure that almost killed her. Almost. He slowly un-buckled his helmet and slid it off his head to cradle in the crook of his arm. His flashed a quick grin. "You're not cutting up on the American phenomenon of the Harley, are you? That could get you shot in the U.S."

She gave a delicate shrug. He never needed to know she secretly loved the American classic. "Good thing I don't care what others think. How'd you get one of those? There were only one hundred made."

He dropped his voice to a dirty whisper. "I know people. They owe me favors."

Her spine tingled with anticipation. The hungry look as his gaze roved over her body caught her hard, but she rallied. "What do we need to discuss?"

He laughed low. "Nothing at the moment. Where are we going?"

She drew her brows together and tried to be firm.

"Nowhere. We'll discuss business, and then I'm going riding."

"Where?"

She shrugged. "Wherever I feel like."

"Sounds like a plan. We'll stop for a break and talk business later. You lead."

She squirmed with the need to wipe the smug look off his face. "I'm trying to be polite here, but you're making it difficult. I don't feel like making social conversation today."

"Who said anything about conversation?"

Her spit dried up and she held back an actual pant.

Those full lips quirked as if he knew her body's reaction.

"If you can't keep up, I'm not waiting for you. This is my time." She said.

His slow grin taunted and pushed all the right buttons. Or the wrong ones. "I'll admit my surprise at your choice of The Pirate. But can you handle her, little girl? Perhaps I'll be the one waiting for you to catch up."

Bulma snapped her helmet down, kicked her bike into gear, and gave him a pitying look. "See you on the other side."

She took off. They rode through the city, battled traffic, and finally hit stride. The streets opened up and spit them out as the city rolled by as they made their way over Bear Mountain Bridge. The sun fought like the king it was and triumphed over the grayness for a few hours. Traffic was lighter than normal for a Saturday, so she rode hard, pushing the machine into full gear and squeezing out more horsepower. The flash of the road underneath the wheels, the tug of the cold wind in her nostrils, the whiz of vivid greenery all rose up and mixed together in a symphony of sweetness to her soul. For a little while, on a fast bike, she was truly free.

They stopped for a break in Cold Springs and had lunch at a little bistro. They parked their bikes and stretched their legs in a leisurely walk. The main street was bustling, as people were out and about enjoying the weather. Shops filled with endless trinkets, clothes, food, and jewelry, Cold Spring boasted one of the most wonderfully historic places in New York. In the evening, the place came alive with a variety of live music, cafés, and shopping. With sunset approaching soon, the crowds would build, so Bulma stuffed their water and uneaten wrapped food into her saddlebag and took off again.

She gave him credit. Vegeta never said a word. But his gaze followed every swing of her hips and caught her sneaky half glances. The man's ass was comparable to David's, and Michelangelo's statue had brought her to tears.

She looked at the sky. Not too much longer before dark hit. She craved the bite of adrenaline she usually achieved from the closure of a good business deal, but she'd just found another way to get her hit.

She stopped her bike, cocked her hip, and made the offer. "I'm heading toward Storm King Highway and cutting through the park. It's a nice road to let the bikes breathe. Let's see who gets there first."

Surprise skittered across his face. "You wanna race?"

"Call it what you want. I plan on welcoming you at the entrance."

He threw his head back and laughed long and hard. The sound was sweeter than Mozart and sexier than Pavarotti.

"You've got to be kidding. This ride has more balls than most bikes on the market."

She smiled sweetly. "I'm sure you both do. See you there."

Bulma's skin prickled with anticipation, and the blood in her veins heated and rushed with the challenge.

She took off toward Route 218, heading southeast towards Storm King Highway in a race to beat the dying sun and the man beside her. She hated to admit he rode like a pro and handled the meatiness of the bike with a grace most men couldn't imitate. She'd ridden with many men throughout her lifetime, some friends, even some lovers. Usually she was disappointed in the aggression and selfishness of the rider. But not Vegeta. He respected the power of Claudio Castiglioni's prized possession, never trying to reach the 196 mph the bike was reputed to achieve, and instead using the mechanics like a lover, coaxing the best with a seductive skill that made her soaking wet between her thighs. He was also a dominant driver, fully in control through each bend of the road, fiercely concentrating on his goal.

Brash for brash, he should've won. But Bulma had been racing for years, knew these routes like an old lover, and excelled at weaving in and out through obstacles. She eventually took the lead and held it tight, pushing the limit of speed and agility as the rush burned through her and took command. When she finally saw the sign of Storm King Park, she was a few beats ahead. Stopping near a side, she cut off the bike, unfastened her helmet, and waited for him to cut his engine.

Vegeta slid off the now-quiet bike. She waited for his response and prepped for a cutting remark. Or a joke…or an excuse. But he didn't speak. Just grabbed her saddlebag with their lunch and allowed her to lead him through the pathways to an open area. The ground was slightly wet from the rain from the previous day, so they settled for the carved benches scattered amidst the towering trees and picked a spot where they could view the scenery.

She loved riding along the highway and later hiking through the park. Most of the time she would find an area near the Hudson River and view the Catskill Mountains and the vast surrounding area. Just basking in all that nature had to offer. Being close to such beauty reminded her that life was long and many things didn't last, but the things that mattered would.

Vegeta remained silent, as if he too was under the spell of a good ride. He unwrapped their sandwiches, and they shared the food. Hard, crusty bread, fat, salty olives and the delicious small salami strolghino di culatello, paired with creamy sheep's milk Gorgonzola blue cheese. The scone with strawberry butter added a bit of sweetness to complete the meal. Her shoulders relaxed even more and she ate in perfect solitude, looking out at the view. Her mind was finally blank, as if she had just departed from the ashrams of India after a weeklong meditation.

"Hell of a bike for a hell of a rider. Mind sharing how you learned to handle that thing, let alone know what it can do?"

Pride etched her face. "It was something I was always interested in. My love of good and fast machinery extended to motorcycles when I was a teenager, and I got hooked. Though my most friends I had told me good girls don't ride bad bikes. But I learned it all on my own without anyone else's help."

Vegeta shook his head and took a long slug of water. "Nice. Most women overcompensate for their lack of brute strength. But you used it to your advantage. It was like watching a poetry slam. Heat and beauty and grace at top speed. What's the best bike you ever owned?"

"It was a 1976 BMW R75/6."

"No way."

She leaned forward. "Yes way. Bright red, classic lines, and if you ever heard the motor, you'd swear you were dreaming. Took years to restore, and people are begging to buy it all the time." She pursed her lips. "Like I'd sell to anyone who wouldn't ride it. That would be a tragedy."

His gaze dropped and rested on her mouth. Her next breath came at a struggle, but she dug her nails into her palm to ground herself. This man was dangerous, and she refused to mix business with pleasure. Even though he had a love and respect for bikes.

"I agree. Beautiful things that are underused is a crime."

The double innuendo stole her sanity and immediately her nipples peaked to attention. He leaned forward and lifted his hand. Slowly, he closed the distance, obviously reaching out to touch her. Mesmerized by the hunter he was, she took a few seconds to react to his intentions.

"Don't." She jerked her chin away. "I thought we agreed to stick to business."

He lifted his palm up. "Sorry. You have a smear of butter on your cheek. I was just going to wipe it off."

She ducked her head to hide the faint blush and grabbed a napkin. Again, that distant amusement emanated from his aura. Like he cared. But didn't. Like he was above all the messiness of emotion and drama, and she was the current plaything. "What was the issue with the contract?"

"Section B, clause three, you forgot to initial."

She stared at him. "You hunted me down, bullied me into a bike ride, and it was about my signature? Our lawyers could have handled the issue in a second."

"I like to use a hands-on approach. In all aspects."

Bulma snorted. "Where do you come up with this stuff? It's like a landmine of a conversation with you, all roads leading to sex."

That got him. He lifted his brow and shifted his weight on the bench. "Is there something wrong with sex?"

She couldn't help it. The dare was all over his face, and his desire to play her for a fool using business as an excuse burned within. She moved in slowly and stopped inches from his mouth. His breath caught, then the sweet rush of air from him released over her lips, smelling of mint and sugar and sin. Her tongue slid out to lick her lower lip, and a tiny groan escaped him. Her hand rested on the hard muscle of his thigh and squeezed.

"Nothing wrong with sex…when the situation calls for it."

His voice dragged like the scrape of gravel. "How about this situation?"

A husky laugh escaped her. "Not gonna happen when we're working together."

"You didn't initial. Technically, the contract is void."

She caressed upward over the sweep of denim, hit his belt buckle, and slipped her hand under the leather jacket.

This was now fun. Teasing a man and walking away was a game she rarely played, but he needed a lesson. Washboard abs tightened under her touch, and those onyx eyes darkened. "Still not gonna happen."

"Care to tell me why?"

She grinned with pure satisfaction, seduction, and a hint of tart. "The one with the biggest balls doesn't always win, Vegeta."

He muttered a curse. "So who does?"

She pursed her lips. "The one who can go the distance." Satisfaction poured through her. How was that for an innuendo? Heady with getting the last word, she began to pull back out of the danger zone.

Too late.

He moved so fast she never had a chance. With a strength that amazed her, he lifted her off the bench and onto his lap, holding her arms tight at her sides so she was a bit off balance. Her struggle was instinctual but quickly faded under his calm, implacable demeanor.

She had made a fatal mistake…and now she was gonna pay.

* * *

The woman was driving him mad.

He was uncomfortably hard, his erection torturing the hard denim and roaring for freedom. The wind caught her scent, full of leather and musk and cocoa, and drenched his nostrils, wrecking his brain and his dick in one effective swoop. Her body was trim yet full, from the curves of her breasts to the lush swell of her rear, now firmly cushioned in the notch of his thighs. Her face reflected the uncertainty of her position and a slight regret at pushing him too far. Good. At least the woman sensed his need to dominate and take. A crazy lust swirled through his system from the mind-blowing twist of hidden sensuality, cool snarkiness, and razor wit of the woman on his lap.

He had almost hit the floor when he pulled up on his bike and caught sight of her. Dressed in badass black leather with thigh-high boots and her hair stuffed up in a red helmet, she was drool worthy. He didn't know any woman who rode a bike, let alone appreciated them. The way she bore down in their race showed the hard-core spirit of a woman who enjoyed winning, and her ability to pick through every obstacle in front of her without slowing almost made him have an embarrassing situation.

Almost.

And she'd won. He revered a good competition and rarely lost. The idea she was even able to cross the finish line before him made him want to rip off her clothes and win in another way. A much more pleasant one.

He tightened his grip. He figured she wanted to taunt him, but now his goal was to make her mad enough to lose some of that precious control. For some reason, his gut told him anger would get past her barriers and allow some of that seething sexual energy to spout out. She held back bigtime, and there was something else other than the obstacle of business between them. Until he found out what, he wouldn't be sleeping soundly at night.

Her hair had come undone, her clip had broken. Vegeta had only before seen the ocean-blue strands neatly twisted up on the top of her head. What he now spotted sealed his decision to get her into his bed at all costs. A shimmering waterfall of silk spilled out and hit her shoulders. He had nasty visions of holding all that hair while she was on her knees taking him deep, of the glossy pin-straight strands brushing his chest as she reared up over him.

For a second, his mind blanked, and he didn't know if he was capable of not taking her right there a public park.

Her clipped words dragged him back to the moment.

"What do you think you're doing? Let me go, this is unprofessional."

Damn, she was hot. He kept hold and chuckled. "And what you did was professional? Taunting me?"

She stuck out her chin. "You deserved it. You need to stop talking about sex in hidden meanings."

"Fair enough. You're wet, aren't you?"

A combination of shock, outrage, and lust glimmered in her eyes. "You did not just say that to me." She hissed. "You go too far."

"Your body gives you away." He slid a hand over her rear, under her jacket, and around to her front where he cupped her breast. Her nipple stabbed into his palm past the fabric of her shirt past the barrier of her bra, and demanded freedom. "I can see your pulse hammering at your neck. Your nipples are stiff, your pupils are dilated, and you can't catch your breath."

"The ride was hard."

His dick twitched. She was fucking magnificent, refusing to surrender even a bit. She could be his greatest challenge.

"I know another thing that's hard." He muttered.

"See! Another innuendo. Let me up."

"One kiss."

She stilled. Was that fear or regret on her face? What was she so nervous about? "Why?"

"Prove it. Prove you're not interested right here, right now."

She rolled her eyes. "You've dated too many bimbos. This has 'sucker' written all over it."

Vegeta fought a grin. "You kiss me. Just once. You're not into it, or me, I won't push anymore. You hold the reins."

"You won't try to touch me?"

"Nope." Regretfully, he removed his hand from her breast and dropped his arms to the side. She shifted her weight so she wasn't off balance, and he swallowed a painful groan.

"My terms? Then you leave me alone?"

"Yes."

A tiny frown creased her brow. He waited patiently until she finally nodded. "Okay. Then we move on as business partners. No weird stuff."

"Agreed."

As if preparing for a test, she dragged in a breath, shut her eyes, and leaned forward. Her lips touched his, super soft and sweet, like the spun cotton candy he lusted after as a kid and beyond. Tentative. Honest. Pure. Her body softened on his lap, and all the signs of her arousal flared to life. It took every ounce of power in his being to accept her kiss on her terms, but when she finally lifted her mouth, the surprise in those blue eyes told him more than he'd learned about her so far.

Oh, yeah, she was afraid. Of him, and of her reaction. She wanted him as badly as he wanted her, but she didn't know what to do with it, and there was a major blockage in the way of her physical reaction, as if she didn't allow herself to ever slip over the edge of not being in control. Another piece of the puzzle slid into place.

Bulma drew back. Her tongue slid over her bottom lip and probably caught his taste, since her body gave a tiny little shudder. Vegeta realized that chaste kiss was sexier than an openmouthed, tongue-mingling mating, because it was the first time she'd given him something on her own.

He swore she'd be giving him a hell of a lot more.

"Okay, satisfied?"

"Yes."

She hesitated, as if not trusting him to give up so easily. But she quickly pulled herself together, scrambled off his lap, and began packing up the bag. "We better go. It'll be dark soon."

He didn't answer. They threw out the trash, walked to their bikes, and donned their gloves. "Thanks for letting me ride with you. I'll express the page to your office and have my assistant come get it when you're done."

"Fine." She tried to stuff her glorious hair back into the helmet, and he caught the tremble in her fingers. "I assume you'll stick with your word and not bother me again in a personal way?"

"No."

Her head shot up. "What?"

He rocked back on his heels, enjoying the hell out of her. "I said if you didn't respond to that kiss, on your terms, I'd leave you alone. But you did. You want me just as badly as I want you."

Her mouth dropped open, then closed with a snap. She fisted her hands. "I didn't respond! I told you I'm not interested in taking this relationship into the bedroom, and you need to respect that. My God, you are unbelievable!"

He grinned. "That kiss proved a lot of things, including your interest. Something's holding you back though, I'm just not sure what it is, but your comment made a lot of sense to me. It's not about having balls."

"Huh?"

He gave a wink. "It's about going the distance. Which I intend to go with you. See you Monday."

He slid onto his bike, revved it up, and roared down the pathway, leaving her standing in the dying sun with a shocked look on her face.

* * *

BlueMoon Goddess: Well I hope you guys enjoyed this extra chapter! And just to let you guys know, it'll be a while before I upload the next one. Plus I have others I need to upload and put this one on the side for the time being. Anyway, hey…Bulma already showed that she does have attraction to Vegeta. Let's just see how long it takes before Vegeta really pushes her and she fully gives in. Until next time guys! ^_^


	4. Chapter 4

BlueMoon Goddess: I'm back again with another chapter! I know you guys are all excited to see how the tension between Bulma and Vegeta will fare in this chapter. So sit back and enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ, its character's or the book "The Marriage Merger" by Jennifer Probst

Summary: Having been burned by relationships before, Bulma Briefs has stayed on her family's businesses, keeping work her main priority. That was until Vegeta Ouji, lured her out of her workaholic lifestyle with an irresistible offer. She shouldn't be trusting him, but his powerful onyx gaze has her rethinking the best use of a conference room, is the riskiest proposition.

* * *

Bulma walked up the concrete pathway and began to truly relax for the first time in the past week. The muscles in her neck and shoulders eased with each tap of her heel, and the warmth of her family home embraced her in a comforting hug of familiarity. She opened the door and made her way towards the kitchen.

"Mom?"

Panchy Briefs turned from her station in front of the stove. "Oh, my goodness, I didn't even hear you. I used to catch the click of the window from miles away when you or your sister used to sneak out at night. Now I can't even hear when my front door slams."

Bulma laughed and gave her a hug. After birthing two children, her mother didn't look a day over thirty. Her long blonde hair was pulled in an up-do, and she wore her usual pearl earrings and today she was wearing her favorite blue dress with a white and blue polka dot apron over it.

"You came at just the right time. Grab an apron and chop up some of those vegetables on the counter." Panchy said, getting back to the stove.

Bulma stowed her bag away, grabbed her apron, and settled herself at the table to chop tomatoes and peppers. "Is Tights coming over for dinner?" She asked, dicing the vegetables.

"No, she said she couldn't make it tonight. She has an event downtown she's doing."

Not only was Tights the head of Blue Lilies, but she also owned her own event planning business, 'A Public Affair Event Planning.' Though with Blue Lilies, her sister hadn't had much time to run her main business, luckily though she had an excellent team to fill her in and help her make good decisions.

"If she's not coming then why so much food? I certainly hope you don't think I can eat all of this." Bulma teased. "Stop trying to fatten me up, mom or I'll have to buy a new wardrobe."

Her mother paused, as if thinking about her next words. "We're still having one guest for dinner."

"Who?"

"You'll see." Her mother smiled.

Just then her father came into the kitchen. "Bulma, I was just about to call you,"

"Oh, what about?" Bulma asked, turning toward her father's direction.

"I wanted to know if you closed the deal with Kingston-Enterprise yet? I know you've been working on it for months and I wanted to see how far you were."

She tried to fight off the disappointment of failure and squared her shoulders. "No, they made their decision a few weeks ago. I lost the deal."

"I'm sorry, Bulma. I know that meant a lot to you, but it's not needed. Everything happens for a reason. A better deal will be presented."

The truth of her father's words struck home. An image of Vegeta sprang before her eyes, those sculpted, devilish lips quirking in amusement, as if he knew she'd eventually end up in his bed. At least he had backed off and hadn't tried to push. Still, she needed to be on guard at all times. She didn't trust him to play by any rules. She cleared her throat.

"Umm, actually, I'm signing a pretty big contract, dad. For a new hotel chain called Black Pearl. We'll be exclusive to the hotels, and the first one launches in the city within the year."

Pride etched out the lines of Dr. Briefs' face. "Well done. Why don't we celebrate with some Moscato? I have a bottle chilling in the refrigerator, and we'll open it at dinner. Perhaps, now that this big deal has been signed, you will finally ease up the workload?"

Her confidence slipped a notch and she avoided his gaze. Of course. Business was never enough when compared to marriage, love and babies. She swallowed back the ridiculous sting of tears, wondering if she was getting her period. What was up with her lately? She was so emotional and . . . girly. "Actually, I'll need to work harder." She said lightly. "But I enjoy every moment. I'm doing exactly what I always dreamed."

"Bulma, I know you enjoy your career. Without you, Capsule Corporation wouldn't have made its best quota yet and an eighty percent rise in stocks."

"Oh dad."

"And because of your idea of moving into the culinary field and opening up Blue Lilies, we're in high demand by everyone in the city."

"Bulma, what your father is trying to say is that we just want you to share all these things with someone special. Like what me and your father have." Panchy said.

Bulma lifted a shoulder in a half shrug. Typical parent wish. Still, the comment bit hard, as if what she had done with her life wasn't enough. It wasn't as if she could confess to her parents something was wrong with her, and she couldn't connect with a man. She pushed the depression to the back of her mind and tried to concentrate on enjoying her visit. "Perhaps one day." She said brightly.

"One day then." Panchy replied back.

A knock at the door saved Bulma from further inquiry.

Bulma wiped her hands on the towel and grinned. "Ah, our mysterious visitor." She moved to the front door and opened it.

Her mouth fell open.

Vegeta stood in the entrance. His business suit had been replaced by a pair of comfortable khakis, a long turquoise sleeved shirt, and tan Timberland boots. He held a bouquet of freshly picked flowers and a bottle of red wine. "Hey."

She stared.

He cocked his head and seemed to fight amusement. "Umm, can I come in?"

She recovered her voice and lowered it to a hiss. "What are you doing here?"

One brow shot up. "I guess you didn't realize I was invited to dinner."

She blinked. "Huh?"

"Real wordsmith out of the office, aren't you? Your parents invited me to dinner."

Bulma jerked back. "Impossible."

Her father's voice from the hallway drifted to the open door. "Bulma, stop torturing the poor man and let him in."

He grinned. "Told you." He stepped around her and waltzed past. Her fingers clenched around the door in an effort to keep standing. After a few deep breaths, she followed him in.

"How beautiful." Panchy crooned, inhaling the scent of white roses and lilies. "Bulma, can you put these in the vase from the living room?"

"Vegeta, can you open the bottle of Moscato? It's in the refrigerator. We were just told Bulma closed a big deal, and we're celebrating." Dr. Briefs said.

Vegeta rocked on his heels, obviously amused at the whole scenario. "Big deal, huh? Of course."

"What's going on? I didn't know you and Vegeta were . . . close?"

Her mother's head snapped around. "Oh he's a good associate of your father's, and it is Sunday. Of course, we would invite him to dine with us."

For craps sake, why was this happening to her today? She only wanted some peace and quiet, and now the symbol of her distress would be breaking bread in her family home.

She forced the words out. "Of course. Let me get the vase."

She busied herself with the flowers as Vegeta uncorked the bottle and poured. Small talk fluttered back and forth between her parents and him, but her skin burned under the scorching heat of his gaze. How did the man manage to shrink the room? He carried himself with a powerful dignity that stole all the air around her. Vulnerability shot through her. She wished suddenly for her business suit and high heels. Her current Sunday outfit consisted of a floral jumpsuit and black wedged sandals. Her hair was loose and a bit tangled from the breeze, and she rarely wore makeup when hanging with her mother. She pressed her lips together and swore not to let him make her feel uncomfortable. He was the outsider—not her.

"Everyone sit and relax. I have everything under control. Have some h'orderves." Panchy said. The tray of prosciutto, crackers, cheese, and pepperoni looked inviting.

There was something intimate about eating in her mom's kitchen. The heavy pine table was large, but the space evoked a cozy atmosphere. The rich colors of burnt orange, scarlet, and gold shimmered in welcome from the pine floors to the colorful pasta bowls and trays hand painted in bright tones. Hand-stitched linens and mats made a presentation for every plate served. The scents of gravy, steamed garlic, and lemon hung heavily in the air and wrapped them in warmth.

Bulma knew her mother wouldn't let her help when there were guests here, so she filled her plate to bursting, sipped her wine, and tossed her business partner a glare. He didn't seem intimidated. More like fascinated by her outfit, greedy appetite, and surliness.

"I'm so honored you both invited me to dinner. I assume Bulma shared the good news about our deal?"

"No, we didn't get to the details yet." Dr. Briefs said. "You mean you're both working together?"

Vegeta grinned. "Yes. I'm building a new chain of hotels called Black Pearl, and Blue Lilies will be my exclusive restaurant. Bulma will be key to helping me make this a success."

She tried hard not to make a face at him, which was extremely juvenile and beneath her. How dare he steal her thunder? As if he bestowed his contract as a gift without her having a say in the matter. Screw him. She jumped in.

"Of course, negotiation was involved before I'd sign the contracts. Some of the clauses were unacceptable."

"Of course." His ready agreement only pissed her off more. Why did he continuously annoy her?

"She makes this family proud. And you've done well for yourself, Vegeta. Tell me about this hotel chain." Dr. Briefs asked him.

As Vegeta talked about Black Pearl, she caught the glow of pleasure on his face. Odd, she understood him in some basic ways. The need to succeed and prove oneself. The fierce satisfaction of building something of your own in a world where nothing was permanent. She rarely analyzed where the drive came from. She was too afraid to know the truth.

It had been a full week since the kiss. As if he had sensed she needed to retreat, he had allowed her the distance and stuck to a few phone calls and a short visit that focused entirely on business. But the damage had been done. She thought about the kiss all the time. The texture of his lips, the scent of his skin, and the promise of his mouth, open and hungry on hers. She had tossed and turned at night and had cursed him. How could such an innocent peck affect her so deeply? If she didn't know her body, she would've thrown away her reserve and her principles and dragged him into bed.

Unfortunately, she knew what would happen. The burst of flame and lust. The promise of satisfaction. And eventually, the withering of heat as her body pruned up and chilled under a man's hand. He would be no different, and she didn't intend to have him figure out her secret.

She just needed to get over it.

Bulma focused back on the conversation, catching her mother's words. "It's amazing how life works. You've met my husband on business ventures, and now you will be a permanent part of our restaurant with Bulma. Almost as if you were meant to be with our family."

Alarm bells rang in her head. Hell, no. She refused to share her quiet Sunday dinners with a man who only wanted to press her sex buttons. Their relationship had to stay firmly in the office, where it belonged. She cleared her throat. "Umm, Vegeta probably likes to keep his work life clearly separated. We need to respect that."

Panchy dismissed her daughter with her hand in the air. "Nonsense. As I tell you all the time, you need more outlets besides work. Dinner with friends and family are necessary in this lifetime. Money and success are not everything. Happiness is."

Bulma crammed another cracker stacked high with pepperoni in her mouth to keep herself from screaming.

Vegeta steepled his fingers and watched. Humor danced in his eyes. "I agree." He said slowly. "In fact, I told Bulma I'd love to spend more time with her on a personal basis. I don't know too many people in New York."

She swallowed the dry crumbs and barely fought off a choking fit.

"A wonderful idea! From now on, you will join us for dinner on Sundays. I'm sure Bulma will make time from her busy schedule to introduce you to some of her friends." Panchy said, cheerfully.

"Thank you."

Her eyes widened. Her mother placed a heaping bowl of pasta and fresh salad in front of them and beamed. "Isn't this wonderful? Now dig in everyone before it gets cold."

Vegeta winked and picked up his fork.

* * *

"Why are you bothering me?" Bulma asked Vegeta.

They sat on the back terrace with cups of cappuccino and a plate of freshly baked coffee cake.

He propped up his legs on the opposite chair and took a forkful of his cake. "I'm not. Your parents like me."

She rolled her eyes. "My parents like everyone. They'd invite a serial killer to supper."

"Nice." He took a bit of his cake. "Though they are extraordinary people. Then again, they raised an extraordinary woman."

"Look, I don't want our relationship blurring from business to personal. I've told you over and over, though you seem not to listen. I'm not interested."

"So you did." He swung his head around and studied her.

He loved the slight vulnerability she showed today. In her casual clothes, with her hair blowing loose and sexy, she looked approachable and young and her bare feet were tucked under her legs. The ice queen image was packed away for a bit, and he wondered at the raw need rising in his gut. He ached to tug her onto his lap, clasp the back of her head, and feast on those pale pink lips. Thrust deep until moans were ripped from her throat and she begged for more.

The woman was a mass of contradictions. Savvy business woman, badass motorcycle rider, sweet and domestic in the kitchen. When he looked at her during dinner, he had spotted a purple lace strap beneath the jumpsuit she wore, and he'd gone hard instantly. Holy crap, the woman wore sexy underwear. Somewhere, underneath all that proper restraint, lay a hidden temptress dying to escape. He bet she wore thongs. Probably a matching violet. Would she be bare and shaven? Or hidden by a silky triangle of aqua hair, trying to mask her secrets?

"Hello? Earth to Vegeta?" Bulma snapped and scowled in his direction. "Why do you have that weird look on your face?" The woman shifted and he caught a flash of cherry red toenails. Not clear gloss or conservative peach. Fire-engine red.

Yep, he was a complete goner.

"Just thinking." He reached out and caught a section of her hair. It rippled and clung to his fingers like a lover. "Your hair is beautiful. So long and silky." He loosened his grip and allowed the locks to drift softly back to their position. His fingers brushed her cheek. "And your skin is flawless. Soft and smooth. If I ran my tongue over you, would you taste like chocolate and coconut?"

Her breath hitched, but she never surrendered. "Here we go. Are my eyes like blue pools of desire, awaiting you to drown in them?"

He shook his head. Damn, she was sharp. "Not bad. I was sticking with the blue reference, so I was going to go with sapphire."

Her lip twitched. "Overdone."

"Maybe. I've been thinking about your breasts a lot, too."

"Hmm, let me try. Milky globes of flesh?"

"Awful, just awful. No, they're high, firm, with long, sensitive nipples that push against your bra. I've been dreaming of the color, though. Pale pink like cotton candy? Or ruby red like a delicious strawberry?" Her eyes dilated, and he took advantage by trailing his finger along the line of her lips, pressing against the pouty curve with his thumb. Like a doe caught in the middle of a grassy field, she held perfectly still and waited, as if sensing danger. "I imagine they'll swell and tighten when I take them between my teeth. I'd enjoy biting your nipples, woman. Sometimes the edge of pain blurs into pleasure and takes you higher. I'd like to explore that edge with you."

"Stop—"

"Why?" He lowered his voice to a whisper and leaned in. His breath rushed over her moist mouth, and the blood rushed to his dick in cranky demand. "Hasn't a man ever told you what he wants to do with you? Verbal foreplay is key in getting a woman ready. The brain is the greatest sexual tool, and many don't use it to its potential." His other hand dropped to her pant-clad leg and stroked over her knee. "Your legs were made to wrap around a man's hips as he thrusts deep. Long and muscled, with those pretty red toenails. Except I may ask you to keep on those high heels you love so much. I think I'd enjoy the sting of your heel in my thigh as you demand your pleasure."

Heat tinged her cheeks. Aware that she was completely under his spell, for a few seconds anyway, he inserted his thumb between her lips, looking for entry. She paused only a moment. Then opened her mouth. His finger slid in and her wet tongue lashed out. He sucked in his own breath.

"But I'd make you wait." Vegeta murmured. "Because I imagine you've tortured me for far too long. I'd slide my fingers into your tight, slick pussy, tease your clit, and make you beg."

Her teeth bit down on the fleshy pad of his thumb.

Arousal exploded inside of him. "Fuck this." He growled.

He removed his finger, grabbed her head, and slammed his mouth down on hers. He devoured and took her the way he wanted to since the moment he met her. This was no game of tease-and-seek, no gentle touch of lip to lip. He followed his gut and pushed hard in sheer demand, for everything. She tasted of sugar and honey as his tongue dove deep and possessed every dark, silky crevice. He swallowed her moan and sank into female heat. For one moment, she gave it all back to him, thrusting her tongue against his, her nails digging into his shoulders. For one moment, she burned bright and true and so hot he almost decided to rip off her jumpsuit and take her right here in her parent's backyard.

And then she changed.

He felt the shift immediately. The slight coolness of her flesh, the rigid tenseness of muscles that had been soft and giving a minute ago. He eased the pressure of his mouth as she changed from willing participant to reserved recipient. The fire blew away, leaving a trail of smoke, ashes, and dying heat.

He lifted his mouth from hers and gazed into her eyes. Loathing. Not at him. Not for the kiss. More of a disappointment and self-loathing. The rip of pure feeling was immediately locked up and shoved somewhere else deep inside. An icy reserve coated her, and it was as if he looked upon a distant stranger and not the woman who burned up in his arms. And then Vegeta knew. The knowledge slammed through him, but he had no time to process it.

She pushed him away with a quiet dignity and lifted her chin. "Please don't do that again." She said coolly. "I'm sure you needed that experiment, but as I told you before, I'm not interested in a physical relationship with you."

He allowed the retreat because he needed time to sift through this new information. "I apologize. All that talking of food and body parts spun me out of control."

She gave a tight smile, obviously desperate to push past the awkwardness of the encounter. "Apology accepted. This won't work, Vegeta. I want you to beg off dinner on Sunday. It's the only time I get to relax during the week and spend quality time with my parents. Surely you can respect that."

"I like seeing you this way." He murmured. "Softer, more approachable. I liked the way you helped your mom in the kitchen, the way you gorged on dinner without a care, and the way you looked at both of your parents with such love and respect."

His thoughts slid into the past. He had never admitted it, but he always wished for a family to love. Just like the family he had growing up. It was such a mysterious concept he couldn't understand, and watching the close relationship with Bulma and her parents set off a fire of emotion and longing he rarely let escape. He remembered when he was a young boy and had come home from school with a black eye from another kid on the playground. When he came home, his mother was fussing over him and when his father had asked who won. He'd told the truth, and got a slap on the shoulder and said that he was proud of him for sticking up for himself.

What was he doing?

He wanted to seduce Bulma Briefs and take her past her comfort zone. He wanted her savvy business skills to make Black Pearl the best. He didn't need to be immersed in her family or be reminded of gentler feelings he had no place or time for. They existed for her, but he knew better. They weren't meant for him. Thinking about what he couldn't have wouldn't help.

He had to get out of here.

She drew back in surprise when he stood up from the chair. "You're right, of course. I won't bother you at dinner any longer. I'm going to say good-bye to your parents, and I'll see you at the office tomorrow. I'll need you to meet the other suppliers for Black Pearl and go over some initial plans."

"Yes…yes, of course."

"Very well. Good night, Bulma."

He left her on the terrace and tried not to run like evil zombies were on his tail. She was right about one thing, dinner was a mistake. But not the kiss. Definitely not the kiss. He knew now what she needed, craved, and how to get her there. No way was he giving up the opportunity to show her what she'd been missing and initiate her into the dark world of erotic pleasures. He tightened his lips and his resolve and went to say good-bye to her parents.

* * *

BlueMoon Goddess: Well, well, well, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! We got a little look of Vegeta's past and how he actually wants the family life like Bulma has someday. Of course, the tension between these two is getting hotter and hotter! Bulma gave in a bit in this chapter, let's see how she'll far in the next. Until next time guys! ^_^


	5. Chapter 5

BlueMoon Goddess: Alright guys, I know you guys are anxious for this next chapter, so I'm going to jump right in.

Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ, its character's or the book "The Marriage Merger" by Jennifer Probst

Summary: Having been burned by relationships before, Bulma Briefs has stayed on her family's businesses, keeping work her main priority. That was until Vegeta Ouji, lured her out of her workaholic lifestyle with an irresistible offer. She shouldn't be trusting him, but his powerful onyx gaze has her rethinking the best use of a conference room, is the riskiest proposition.

* * *

What the hell had happened last night?

Bulma sat at the conference table with the other members of Vegeta's team and tried to focus. He'd managed to outmaneuver her for a moment, but when she got back into control, something had changed between them. A certainty glimmered in his eyes that scared the crap out of her. Suddenly, he reminded her of a hungry predator ready to swallow her whole. The scary part was that the outcome didn't seem so bad.

She thought she'd regained her footing, and then that other look had crossed his face. Regret…and a hint of longing. He'd left so fast she'd known he'd been hurt in some way she couldn't understand. The knowledge she could wound a man like him kept her up all last night. Thinking about that kiss. For a few seconds, her body came alive and was ready to play hard. For a moment, she thought he'd cured her, and she would've gratefully climbed on his lap and impaled herself on him faster than he could imagine. The idea of an orgasm thrilled her, beckoned like a shining beacon of light she never seemed to be able to reach. But, as with all the others, her mind finally clicked back on, and the desire drifted away.

It had only been a mirage.

The failure had mocked and burned as she tossed and turned in her tangled satin sheets. If Vegeta couldn't get her to respond, no man would. She knew that in her gut. He'd given off all signals of recovery. Of course, at least she didn't have to torture herself anymore about what-ifs. They could go back to business, and she wouldn't be tempted any further. Sure, it was a bit embarrassing to think he pitied her, but maybe he just thought she wasn't attracted to him like other women. Maybe he didn't see her as deficient but as more of an exception to a rule. Hopefully.

She turned her attention back to the other suppliers who crowded around the table. Tai, the interior designer and fabric expert, seemed a bit snobby but extremely talented. Her short red bob, bright makeup, and tendency to wear all black told Bulma she had a keen sense of style and how to put things together. Reese, the manager, exhibited an even temperament key to the hotel industry, and he fleshed out his ideas in businesslike fashion. Elsa, the spa expert, was extremely new agey, with blond hip-length hair and dressed completely in organic, breathable earth-tone fabrics. Her voice was low and melodic, with glowing, fresh skin and a lean body she trained with hours of yoga. Each brought something new to the table, and thank goodness she felt as if they could all work well as a team, yet own their individual flair.

Bulma watched Vegeta from under half-lidded eyes. He was magnificent in action. Completely in charge, but with a relaxed ease that invited opinions and discussion. Ruthlessly organized and well spoken. He vibrated on a lower key, as if skimming the surface but always retaining tight control. His slate gray suit molded to his muscled length in loving attention, and when he turned toward the PowerPoint presentation, her gaze fixed on the hard, tight ass her fingers longed to explore. Amazing how badly she craved his touch from a distance. Already her panties were damp, and that burning need throbbed between her legs. Too bad she froze once contact was initiated. He turned and shot her a knowing look. She tried not to flinch and concentrated on not letting her face grow hot. How embarrassing. Staring at his rear like a silly teenager crushing on her teacher.

They finished their meeting and broke for lunch. Bulma was turning on her heel and heading toward the door when her name rang through the room. Her feet stuck to the carpet at the commanding tone, and her belly flipped and sank low. She turned her head. "Yes?"

Vegeta pinned her with his hot gaze. "Stay, please. I need to discuss something with you."

She opened her mouth to tell him no, but he'd already turned to finish his conversation with Tai. Bulma was tempted to walk out, but she figured she'd let him win this round. He quickly dispersed the other conference members, shut the door, and pressed a button on his desk. The door slid closed without a sound and locked them in.

Oh, no. Not again.

Temper flowed hot and clean through her veins. How dare he do that intimidation thing with her? She wasn't his lackey, and he had no right to order her around. She tilted her chin and marched toward him. "The magic lock thing is a nice touch, but it doesn't work on me." Who cares if she lied? "Next time ask me nicely to stay. I don't take well to being bossed around."

He smiled and shifted his hip so he was leaning against his desk. With a lazy, assessing air, he unbuttoned his suit jacket and shrugged out of it. The crisp white shirt pulled against his broad chest, and the red tie just made him look hotter. "Funny, I disagree. I think what you've been missing is a man who will tell you what to do. What he wants. And how he wants it."

The air whooshed out of her lungs. The room tilted, then steadied as his meaning finally penetrated her ears.

Had he gone crazy? "Have I just dropped into a badly directed porn movie? Listen, I'm not one of these repressed feminists who needs the right man to unlock her hidden desires. Been there. Done that. Now, unlock the door or I'll spring a lawsuit on you so fast your head will explode."

He shook his head and grinned. "This is completely separate from work and you know it. I thought you were braver than that, Bulma. Don't try to hide behind our contract."

She sputtered with outrage. "You're pinning this on me? Oh, that's priceless. Let me try to be crystal clear. You kissed me last night. I allowed it. Fireworks didn't explode, the earth didn't tilt on its axis, and now we're moving on. How about you tuck your ego back in your pants, and we put the episode behind us? Maybe you can target Elsa, she looks like she's into that tantric thing, which might be a real hoot for you."

A delighted laugh broke from his lips. The cool sophistication she prided herself on slipped under her scrambling fingertips and left her with a hot mix of emotions she didn't know how to handle. "Damn, you're perfect for me. Okay, let's get past the slow getting-to-know-you phase and get to the good stuff." Suddenly, his relaxed demeanor changed.

As if a switch had been turned, he pushed away from the desk and focused his attention on her. His eyes gleamed with heat and a touch of menace.

She remembered watching a show on snow leopards. The sleek grace of their bodies as they stalked their prey was a bit teasing at first, before they revved up the intensity to such a high level that the prey was unable to run and just stood there waiting to be eaten. That's how she felt at the moment. She didn't even realize she was retreating until her back slammed against the wall. The satisfied smirk on his lips told her he knew how he affected her, and he intended to do everything possible to prove his point. Slowly, he caged her in by pressing his palms flat against the wall beside her head. Her body lit up and begged to play. The lace of her bra scratched against her sensitive nipples, and a drugging heat pulsed through her body.

Furious at her weakness, she rallied. "Move any closer and you'll regret it."

One brow arched. "Like this?" With one graceful motion, he eased her legs apart and pressed his hips to hers. His heavy erection stole her breath.

"You're a bastard." She craved to slide her fingers into those thick waves and surrender. The knowledge that her body would eventually freeze up and torture her made her blink back furious tears. "Why are you doing this? Do you have to conquer a woman's 'no' to feel like a man? Fine, get it over with. Let's have a repeat of last night so I can prove to you we don't have the right chemistry."

His eyes softened a bit, and he stroked her cheek with tender motions. "Woman, we have the perfect chemistry. I have never wanted a woman as badly as I want you. How long has it been since you responded to a man?"

She pushed against his chest but he didn't budge. "Last week."

"Tell me the truth."

Humiliation flooded her in waves. Dammit, she couldn't do this any longer. Knowing her honesty would finally make him leave, she spat the words in his face. "Never! I can't respond to any man, and I never have. Are you satisfied now? Will you leave me alone and stop playing these games?"

He pressed his forehead to hers in a soothing gesture.

"Thank you." He whispered against her lips. "Thank you for telling me the truth."

She kept her body stiff and waited for him to finally pull away. When he began pressing tiny kisses to her brow and down her cheeks, she bit back a sob. "Please let me go."

"No. Not yet." He tortured her with slow caresses over her hips, sliding his hands under her jacket and stroking the thin silk of her blouse. His touch was heated and strong as he kneaded her muscles. His mouth drifted near her ear and played with her lobe, licking, biting gently, until a slow burn simmered under her skin. "You've been screwed, woman, and not in a good way. Assholes have made you feel there's something wrong with you. Tied you up in so many knots that your body is stuck."

She took a deep breath, quickly twisted and brought her knee up. Unfortunately, he anticipated the move and kept her tightly pinned. His rock-hard erection pressed against her core, and a low animal moan escaped her lips. Where had that come from? His soft laugh stirred the strands by her temple, and unbelievably, she grew wetter.

"I could show you things you've been missing." He taunted. His tongue licked the inner shell of her ear and a stream of hot breath caused goose bumps to pepper her flesh. His hands continued to massage her hips and slide behind to cup her ass, forcing her to arch on tiptoes. "Things that can free your delicious body and let you surrender to pleasure."

She panted. "Like sexual discrimination and harassment? Oh, goody."

"Let's put that mouth to better use, shall we?"

His lips traveled across her cheek and took her mouth.

He nipped at her lower lip. The quick pain startled her and she allowed him full access. This time, he didn't claim and possess. No, he teased and cajoled, his tongue playing and slipping in and out, pairing the invasion with little nibbles that kept her off balance. Automatically, she reached up to try and push him away, but he grabbed her wrists in one hand and dragged them over her head. His easy grip was unbreakable. Her breasts strained against her blouse as she struggled for breath. She fought for equilibrium, but he held her legs open within the confines of her pencil skirt. The combination of pleasure and pain, restraint and control, swarmed within and around until her senses took over completely. Her brain scrambled for clarity, but she couldn't seem to surface. His fingers plucked at her tight nipple, rolling the tips through the thin fabric and lace, but never enough to satisfy her. Her blood roared and her hips arched for more.

"That's it." He murmured. "Strong women like you need a way to turn off their thoughts. Surrender completely to me and I'll make it so good for you, you'll beg for more."

She stiffened. Surrender? What was he talking about? She wasn't weak, she was—

"Ah, back to thinking, are we? My mistake, I let you wander." He deftly unbuttoned the top three buttons of her blouse and slid his hand inside to cup her breast. Those warm fingers hit her skin and she held back a gasp. His thumb swiped her aching nipple against the lace, forcing a shudder. She craved more pressure, but he wouldn't give it to her, wouldn't give her the full-body contact she needed to feel satisfied. Back and forth, over and over, until she gritted her teeth and wiggled in his grasp, trying to get loose.

Vegeta only tightened his hold, and the erotic torture made her hotter. That sexy laugh again, as if he knew exactly what she wanted and refused to give in. "You like that, huh? But you're not ready for more. You have to learn to ask for what you want, Bulma. Ask nicely."

Her eyes widened. "What?"

"You heard me." His gaze drilled into hers until she was caught up in hot golden flames. "You know what I want? I want to push up your skirt, pull down your panties, and slide my fingers into your wet heat. I want my mouth on your nipple, your thighs wide apart, and your honey flowing over my fingers. I want to watch your face when you come so hard you scream, and then I want to strip off your clothes and do it all over."

Her heart thundered in fear and lust. How could he say these things? So raw and lurid and . . . carnal. No one had ever dared to speak with her in such a way. It wasn't proper.

"Don't say things like that." Her voice came out hoarse and ragged.

"Why?" He murmured, coaxing her nipple tighter. He watched every motion until she felt stripped naked and vulnerable. "Because it's not proper? You've done proper already, and it hasn't worked. It's time you do dirty."

"No, it won't work, it will—oh!" He bit down hard on her neck, then licked the tender flesh at the same time he squeezed her nipple. Shudders wracked her body and her thoughts spun out of control.

"You're wet, aren't you? Wouldn't it feel so good if I slipped my fingers between your legs? Rubbed your clit until all that tension just exploded?" His outrageous words should've embarrassed her, but social niceties took a nosedive under the sudden crazed demand of her body. She panted and twisted for one final desperate attempt at sanity.

"I can't have an orgasm, okay? Let me go."

"No." The shock of a man not listening to her commands threw her off. "For the next few minutes, your body is under my control." Onyx eyes burned with clear direction and blistering heat. "You have no say over what I do. You can't touch me or worry about what comes next." His hand left her breasts and slowly tugged up the edges of her skirt so it bunched around her upper thighs. She couldn't move, completely transfixed by his words and voice and demand.

"You're not allowed to think about the business deal, your schedule, or what you're cooking for dinner." He nudged his knee up behind hers so her left leg was lifted and open to his touch. "Now let's see how hot and wet this little episode got you."

Bulma gasped at his crudeness but he crashed his mouth over hers. He invaded her mind and body at once. His tongue pushed through the seam of her lips and dove deep, while his fingers found the edge of her panties, slipped under, and found home. A strange noise broke from her but he only swallowed the sound with an expertise that robbed her breath. Talented fingers parted her swollen flesh and dove into her drenched core. Confused, she could only respond to a variety of demands, as her nipples begged for the lash of his tongue, and his delicious taste of coffee, spice, and male hunger urged her mouth to open wider for more.

She clenched around the push-pull of his pumping fingers until the unbelievable sensations of a looming orgasm hit every muscle. She reached, trying to hold on to it with her mind. Her fingers curled into his, and his thumb pressed over her throbbing clitoris, the nerves screaming for re-lease. He ripped his mouth from hers as she teetered on the edge, caught between the hazy place where logic was dead and physical need trumped every lesson she'd ever learned.

His gaze drilled into hers and demanded surrender. Yes. Yes, she would do anything right now. The slightest bit of pressure would throw her over. Just a little more and…he was gone.

She blinked, panting hard as her brain tried to make sense of what had occurred. The few inches of space that separated them brought a sudden chill to her overheated flesh. Her body ached from raw need, and she stared at him with growing horror as the scene crystallized before her.

No, this couldn't have happened. He only meant to torture her, show her a horrible lesson, then leave her stranded so he could laugh and make fun of her. With clumsy fingers, she pushed down her skirt and straightened her clothes. Humiliated tears stung the back of her lids, but she gritted her teeth and fought through the emotion, going back to her safe, cold place where nothing could hurt her.

"Don't you dare." He ripped out. "You will not demean yourself anymore in my presence. Look at me. Look at how badly I want to take you against that wall like a fucking animal." His erection seemed huge and looming from the tight fabric of his pants. "You think this was a goddamn lesson for my ego? I needed to show you what it could be like between us. I can take you further, all the way, but you have to make that decision."

Frustration ripped through her. "I'm not some sort of project for you, Vegeta. You wanted to show the poor frigid woman you can get her off once? Congratulations, close enough. Thanks for the sampler platter, but I'll pass on the meal. Now leave me the hell alone."

She headed toward the door, but he blocked her so fast it reminded her of the Twilight movies where Edward whizzed in front of Bella with vampire grace. "Not before you listen to me, or I'll push you back against that wall and fuck the consequences." Her thighs trembled at the threat.

What the hell was wrong with her? She was sick to be so turned on by his caveman tactics.

"You're not sick." He said gently.

His ability to read her thoughts only enraged her more.

She crossed her arms in front of her chest and lifted her chin. "Talk. You have two minutes, and then I'm leaving this room. I swear if you try to stop me again, I'll scream the building down."

"Fair enough. Simply put, you respond to a more dominating sexual manner than other women. Your mind is so strong and in charge, your body doesn't get a shot. You'll probably get more excited by restraints or a lover who you can surrender control to in the bedroom."

"And how do you know all this?"

"I've been with women before who had situations similar to yours. And I learned a bit about domination and submission during the years."

She rolled her eyes. "I don't need to submit to any man."

"Not submit. You couldn't be any man's plaything or slave. Though in traditional roles, the one who submits is the one who always holds the power. No, I'm talking about simple surrender. Giving up control in order to get sexually excited and stay there." He took a step toward her and his scent rose in her nostrils. She fought the urge to close her eyes and drag in a deep breath. Just his closeness turned her on like no other man ever had. "I want to show you that world. Give you pleasure. Since I met you, I've imagined you in my bed with your legs wrapped around my hips while I thrust inside you. Your face when you come…but I need you to trust me on some level first. Give me a chance."

The fight sagged out of her body, and she was left with the bruising knowledge she didn't believe him. Sure, he was able to get her close to orgasm, but she hadn't managed to finish. She was probably caught up in the moment. Another planned encounter would never work.

"One night, Bulma." His voice stroked and probed every dark corner like crushed velvet. "I want you, and I'll do anything to get you. If I can't give you an orgasm in one night, I'll leave you alone. In fact, I'll give you an incentive."

A humorless laugh escaped her lips. "An orgasm and an incentive? How much better can it get?"

"I'll put you in charge of the entire operation."

She stilled. "What?"

"I said you had free access but I was the one with the final decisions. If you spend the night with me and you're not satisfied, I'll give you final approval over anything to do with Blue Lilies."

The consequences of full control when it came to her restaurant flooded her with adrenaline. She had so many ideas that he might fight her on. This way, anything she wanted to try would be all hers. If she disagreed with his actions, she'd be able to overstep his command. It was almost a guarantee of success, because there was no way to lose, she'd never have to depend on his approval.

Vegeta laughed. "Ah, I knew you would like that. Think about it."

"What do you get out of it? You'd lose one of the most important aspects in this deal, the ability to veto any decision."

"I get you."

His gaze locked with hers. Bulma was unable to keep her body from trembling or to mask the raw lust for more of him. To have him naked and demanding in her bed, pushing her to places she'd only dreamed about. Oh boy, what was she going to do?

"Only for one night." Her quick words reeked of defeat.

He remained silent and studied her. She shifted her weight onto her other high heel and tried to think. "What if I lose?"

His lip lifted. "Then we both win, don't we?"

The intercom buzzed and interrupted the electricity zinging in the air. "Mr. Ouji, your one o'clock is here."

He never moved or answered. She envied his control over the situation, even as she realized he was still fully aroused. Time to retreat and get herself together. The man oozed pheromones that fried her brain. "I'll think about it."

He nodded, as if they discussed a business arrangement rather than a night of sex. "Very well. I'll wait until you give me an answer."

Bulma veered around him and gave up a small victory. No matter. She'd have time to regroup, but right now his nearness needed to be avoided. His low chuckle confirmed he noticed, and she cursed under her breath as she scurried out the door in full cowardly retreat.

Damn him.

What the hell was she going to do?

* * *

BlueMoon Goddess: Well, well, well, it certainly turned hot this chapter didn't it? Gave you guys a bit of a little lime. Next chapter will certainly be the lemon you guys have been waiting for…maybe. Or I might just let you guys wait in anticipation. I'll see how I feel. So until next time guys! ^_^


	6. Chapter 6

BlueMoon Goddess: Wow you guys were raving in your reviews from last chapter! But I can completely understand, it was a pretty spicy chapter. And since I got such great reviews, I decided to go ahead and upload the next chapter, and even throw in a little something lemony as well. Anyway, I won't keep you guys waiting, so here it is, the moment you all have been waiting for!

Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ, its character's or the book "The Marriage Merger" by Jennifer Probst

Summary: Having been burned by relationships before, Bulma Briefs has stayed on her family's businesses, keeping work her main priority. That was until Vegeta Ouji, lured her out of her workaholic lifestyle with an irresistible offer. She shouldn't be trusting him, but his powerful onyx gaze has her rethinking the best use of a conference room, is the riskiest proposition.

* * *

Bulma stared out the window and looked at the gray, misty scene before her. Cars whipped in and out on the streets and fought with the crowds, trying to cross the walkway. Plus, it was almost lunch-time. Many people held cups of cappuccino in their hands, smoking furiously and ducking their heads from the drizzle of rain. For a moment, she wished she were like most other women. Most would be heading toward the elaborate shopping galleries and get lost in Saks Fifth Avenue, Barneys, and other designer brands. Or taking a stroll on the uneven pavements, nibbling on a buttery pastry and enjoying the scene before her, rain and all.

She bit back a sigh and glanced at the massive stack of papers on her desk. Not her. She'd eat in her office, as usual. It's for the best as well, she had a lot to do anyway. The advertising plan needed to be nailed down soon in order to prepare for a quick opening. Sales were down for some strange reason in their other location for Blue Lilies, and she needed a conference call with the manager stationed there.

She pressed her palm flat against the cool pane of glass and thought again of the other offer before her.

One night with Vegeta.

It had been nearly a week since their encounter. Five full days of no close interaction, just a glance from the end of a conference table. Five days since he touched her and kissed her and boldly propositioned her with sex. Her rational mind raged at his rawness and obvious dismissal of the polite rules of society and work. The other part of her relished the dark freedom.

She turned from the window and adjusted the few frames on her desk that kept getting misaligned. What was wrong with her lately? Usually work satisfied every aspect in her life. During yesterday's meeting, she found her gaze attached to Vegeta. Especially the tight ass muscles his custom Calvin Klein suit enhanced. And damned if he hadn't turned around and given her that dirty little smile, like he knew what she was thinking, imagining and fantasizing about. And what he refused to give her until she agreed to his ridiculous terms. So embarrassing.

She told herself over and over he played a game of ego and ruthlessness. Why did he want to give her an orgasm so badly? Why did he care? And yet . . . the lure of one night with him taunted her sanity. Maybe if she gave him the opportunity, everything would go back to normal? Couldn't it be a win/win for her?

She paced back and forth and analyzed the details.

Maybe there was room for negotiation. He'd do his best to give her physical pleasure, and if she couldn't . . . well, climax . . . she'd have full control over the restaurant within Black Pearl. Asset number one.

Sure, it could be a bit awkward, but she'd already warned him about her inability to relax, and a few hours of being uncomfortable would be worth the reward. Her mind sliced through the options and switched to devil's advocate.

"What if I do have an orgasm?" She asked quietly, her belly dipping at the tantalizing image of pleasure.

Well, that would be great, right? Maybe she'd finally get her head back in the game of business. After all, couldn't one orgasm last her a long time? Kind of like inventory. Her body would be more loose, she'd have the satisfaction she was normal, and she'd move on. Yes, he'd still retain full rights of final approval, unless…she possibly raised the stakes? Made it more difficult for him to achieve his goal? After all, if he was able to rise to the new terms, she'd deserve to lose. Her gut said it'd be an impossible task for him to accomplish. Even if he managed to get her to slide over the cliff once, he'd never, ever make her come twice. Right?

She tapped her fingernail against her bottom lip and scanned all possibilities. Could she get him to agree? Yes, challenging his ego and giving him an unreachable goal would call to his sense of dominance. A shiver raced down her spine. And she knew he'd be dominant in private. Just the way he'd restrained her wrists and gotten that gleam of lust in his eyes made her wet. She sensed he'd go for the new terms and lose. Maybe she'd get one orgasm and score the contract also. Win/win.

As if her thoughts conjured him up, her secretary buzzed her. "Mr. Ouji is here to see you. Can I send him in?"

Bulma tamped down the girly impulse to check her hair and makeup, but she shook the thought and cleared her throat. "Yes, please."

She didn't have a magic door, so she settled back in her burgundy leather chair, straightened herself to full height, and pretended to be engaged in her folders. He entered silently, as if he practiced burglary in his spare time, and the only way she knew he was in front of her was the pull of his body heat and the delicious smell of spice he carried on his skin. She lifted her head, a polite smile on her face, and froze.

He was so gorgeous. Would she ever get used to that face?

Without missing a beat, Vegeta crossed the room, propped two hands on her sprawling mahogany desk, and leaned in. Onyx eyes delved straight into hers without hesitation or apology. As if he'd been patiently waiting for her answer and was now done.

"Well?"

Some weird noise squeaked from her throat. She dropped the folders she was holding and rallied. "Well, what?"

His lip quirked. "Have you approved the final layout? The builders need to set up the proper space for equipment for the pedestrian store."

Disappointment tweaked at his focus on business.

Stupid to believe he'd come here for something else. She shook off her thoughts and squinted in consideration. "I prefer the right corner. Studies have proven that locations in lobbies propel more impulse buys."

"Not in this case. Blue Lilies owns the same spot in the Upper East Side and sales are rocketing."

"Yes, but only because this is New York." She retorted. "If you tried this strategy in Milano it would be harder, especially with a hotel with American influences. You may get the tourists, but most prefer a window shop on the right."

His teeth flashed from the wolfish grin. "Perhaps. But I already have a use for that prime space. You can make it up in other ways, you don't have to rely on passersby for main profits any longer."

Irritation pricked her nerves. "An interesting but completely inane opinion."

One brow arched. "Inane, huh?"

She smoothly continued. "The impulse buyer happens to bring a high level of profit we don't want to lose. Especially since, what's that saying again, we have our eggs in one basket."

"But it's a hell of a basket."

The wicked curl of seduction tipped his words. She ignored it, but her heart pounded anyway. "Perhaps. Though a bit small."

His bark of laughter startled her. She fought a flush of pleasure at her ability to make him laugh. He drew his hands back and slowly unknotted his scarf. Slid off his coat and hung it neatly on the back of the chair. Why did this basic stripping of outer clothes affect her like this? As if she was in his private bedroom waiting for the finale. Her gaze probed his clothes as she wondered what type of body he sported beneath the thin fabric. His muscles seemed tight in all the right places. When he'd pinned her against the wall, everything felt rock hard and powerful.

"Now that was an interesting thought." He murmured.

This time, she blushed. Hurriedly ducking her head, she pretended to neaten the pile of papers before swiveling the chair around. The massive desk hid most of her body and gave her a layer of protection she badly needed. "So, can we adjust our original location?"

"No."

She stiffened. "Why not?"

He adjusted his cuffs as if he had all the time in the world. "Because I don't want to. My plan will work better."

"What if I disagree with your opinion?" She rolled the last word around in mockery to make her point.

He gave a half shrug. "I don't care. Final approval, remember?"

She sucked in a breath. "Are you using this as leverage for your ridiculous offer?"

Humor glinted in his eyes. "I don't need leverage, Bulma. Personal relationships don't have to affect my business ventures. In this case, I want you badly enough to take a gamble." His obvious ease with admitting he wanted to take her to bed reminded her she was sparring with an expert. And for one crazy moment, she wanted to play in a different arena. Wanted to leap and take a chance on something that scared the crap out of her.

Her protective stance behind her desk suddenly seemed like a prison. She got to her feet and moved, keeping a safe distance between them. His obvious amusement raised her hackles again and she blurted out the words to push him off guard. "Let's negotiate terms."

"I told you. The space decision is final."

"I'm talking about our night together."

That did it. Surprise flitted across his carved features. "You want to discuss bullet points?"

She ignored his question and sank into the world where she was most comfortable. Business. Her heels tapped on the polished wood as she paced with slow, steady movements. "Of course. I've been thinking about your offer. At first glance, it seems like a solid compromise due to my inability to reach certain physical aspects most other women are able to achieve."

He shook his head, crossed his arms in front of his chest, and stared. "I hear a 'but' in there."

" _But_ I feel it's too easy of a mark for you to hit. I think by raising the terms to two orgasms, it will be a fairer competition for either of us to win."

His mouth opened but nothing came out. Satisfaction coursed through her at his sudden inability to speak. About time she finally grabbed the upper hand. He finally found his voice. "We're negotiating the number of orgasms now?"

She frowned. "Of course. I didn't limit your option clause to specified use of any toys, so really, you may pull out an advantage. And let's be honest, shall we? Achieving one orgasm may be difficult but achievable with the focus of an estimated eight hours. Two would be much harder and bring us on a more equal playing field."

"Holy shit. You're not kidding."

Annoyance fluttered through her. "I'm sorry, perhaps I was mistaken. Was this a negotiable, valid offer or not?"

He let out a deep belly laugh, the rich tone booming and pumping the room with life. "God, you're magnificent." He murmured. Suddenly, the laughter faded and was replaced by a glimmer of hard lust. Her toes curled in her bone-colored pumps. "You're correct though, this is a valid offer and negotiations are definitely in play."

Her confidence wobbled. Why did it feel like he was back in charge? She reminded herself to stick to business and not get distracted by his sexiness. After all, he probably used such assets to his advantage. "Very good. I believe we should raise the limit from one to two."

"Done."

She blinked. That was way too easy. Why did he seem so dangerous? His tongue wet his bottom lip as if imagining her taste when he finally pounced. "Oh…well good, then I guess we have a deal."

"Oh, we're not finished." He moved toward her a few steps and studied her face. "I assume, first off, this will not be a written contract, but verbal?"

She fought the blush this time and won. "Yes, I trust your word and would rather this deal not be in ink."

"Agreed." One more step in. She slid her foot back in a casual manner and gained another inch of distance. "Time is important. You mentioned eight hours. I think we should be more specific, let's say eight p.m. to eight a.m. for a full twelve hours."

"Uh, I don't think I should be staying overnight, or sleeping in your bed. How about eight to two?"

"Nonnegotiable. I'll need a certain amount of intimacy to have a fair shot at getting you two orgasms. You will stay the night."

She hated the idea and had been hoping to scurry out before the morning light. "I'll agree to six a.m., but no later."

Was that pride reflected in his face or her imagination? "Agreed. Let's discuss location. Where shall this take place? Your apartment?"

She frowned. "No, it should be on neutral territory."

"I'll book a hotel then."

She dragged her other foot back. "I don't want any gossip. Discreetness is key."

"I promise to take care of it. Do you trust me?"

Did she? Did she trust him to keep her secret safe, along with the use of her body? Yes. The word floated from her gut and she didn't question it. Bulma had learned the hard way to always trust her instincts, whether she wanted to or not. "Yes."

Satisfaction gleamed from his eyes. He moved forward three steps. "Thank you."

Her fingers curled into tight fists. "You're welcome. Anything else?"

"Yes. Methods."

"What type of methods?"

An intimate smile curved his lips. "Am I allowed to use toys? Or just my fingers and mouth?"

Her heart thundered so loud she heard the boom, boom, boom echo in the room. The idea of him using a vibrator on her was too much to handle. She shook her head. "No, no toys. It gives you an unfair advantage."

"Hmm, I'm tempted to fight you on this point. I can further your pleasure and take you higher."

Perspiration dampened her palms. "No, thank you."

"Very well, it'll give me something to work for."

Not able to take his closeness, she pivoted and practically raced back toward the safety of her desk. "Good. I think that's it. I should get back to work."

His voice was whisper soft. "When?"

She dived into the chair. "Saturday night?"

"Done. Oh, and one more thing, it's a rule and I won't bend on this one."

Her stomach dropped. "What rule?"

Slowly, he moved toward her. Her haven became a prison as he came around the desk, grasped the supple leather arms of the chair, and swiveled her around to face him head-on. Thoughts emptied from her head and turned her into a wide-eyed idiot. His scent swarmed her nostrils, and he dragged the chair a few inches forward, leaned in and stopped a hair's breadth from her lips.

"I'm in charge. The moment you enter that door, your body belongs to me. I tell you to do something, you must agree to do it."

She trembled. "That's ridiculous. I'm not going to do everything you say."

"Then no deal."

His gaze drilled hers and confirmed there was no backing down. All or nothing. "What if I'm uncomfortable or scared?"

His face softened. He ran an index finger over the curve of her lip. "I'd never hurt you. I'll give you a way to slow things down, or stop, but you need to trust me."

There was that word again. Trust. Trust a man who was a sexual force to be reckoned with. Again her gut screamed the answer, and the word broke from her lips.

"All right."

The triumph in those onyx eyes almost made her withdraw her consent. Almost. He must have known she was tempted, because with one last stroke of his fingers, he pulled back and gave her space. "Saturday night, then. I'll let you know where to meet me." He shrugged on his coat, twirled the scarf around his neck, and headed toward the door. "I'll be in touch."

He walked out without another word.

Bulma shuddered and wondered if she'd just made a bargain with the devil himself.

* * *

BlueMoon Goddess: Haha, gotcha didn't I? I have to keep you guys in suspense, so what did you guys expect. Anyway, all jokes aside, next chapter will definitely be the moment these two start their one night together. So definitely expect some lemony goodness in the next chapter. However, since I did put up two chapters within the same week, you guys are going to have to be patient and wait a while until the next update. So until next time guys! ^_^


	7. Chapter 7

BlueMoon Goddess: Alright guys, here is the chapter you've waiting for, the night of Vegeta and Bulma! Now this chapter is pretty long, so enjoy it to the fullest!

Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ, its character's or the book "The Marriage Merger" by Jennifer Probst

Summary: Having been burned by relationships before, Bulma Briefs has stayed on her family's businesses, keeping work her main priority. That was until Vegeta Ouji, lured her out of her workaholic lifestyle with an irresistible offer. She shouldn't be trusting him, but his powerful onyx gaze has her rethinking the best use of a conference room, is the riskiest proposition.

* * *

Vegeta did a quick survey of the rooms to make sure everything was in place. The Mandarin Oriental hotel was perfect for their first encounter, offering an Asian luxury that was both visually and physically arresting.

The suite, with a touch of Asian flair, had a sophisticated urban-chic feel with clean lines, elegant furnishing and a spacious layout. The living room was furnished with elegant ivory pieces accented with brushed gold and black, and boasting magnificent floor-to-ceiling windows that showcased a stunning view of Central Park and the Manhattan skyline. The master bedroom had a rich, opulent décor with gold, red and pomegranate accents with a king-size bed, and a bottle of champagne was chilled in a silver bucket across from a tray of finger foods to keep any hunger at bay.

He hoped he'd finally elicit a different type of hunger. Anticipation bit through him in sweet agony and stiffened his cock. Their negotiations over this night still turned him on. He'd never met a woman so worthy of pleasure. The sharpness of her intellect was as much of a turn-on as her luscious body. A body she didn't know how to use or to take pleasure in. The dom in him howled to release such a prize and claim it for himself.

The possessiveness surprised him. He'd shared women before without a thought, not to hurt them but to make sure he didn't restrain them with false expectations. He realized long ago he'd never be whole enough for a healthy, long-term relationship. With what he went through in his younger years, the last thing he wanted to do was have a relationship and he would have nothing to offer. He made sure women knew there was no future going in so he never gave fake hope. But since Bulma, his inner beast broke out with a primitive impulse to mark her as his.

He'd just have to get over it.

Still, he couldn't believe he'd persuaded her to spend the night. When she calmly informed him he'd only get a few hours and she'd leave before dawn, the need to claim her till morning shocked him to the core. Usually it was the other way around. A rueful smile touched his lips. Guess he got a taste of the other side…and it sucked.

A knock sounded on the door.

His fingers tingled as he opened it and wondered if she'd obey his first request. His scrawled note with the gift box probably intimidated her. Had he gone too far?

Vegeta flung open the door, and instead of a trembling lover, he faced a pissed-off ice queen.

A scowl settled on her brow. "You actually think women like wearing this crap? Do you know how humiliating it is to have people think you're not wearing anything under your coat? I got stares from the taxi driver and doorman."

She stalked in wearing a short cream-colored trench coat, stiletto heels, black stockings, and not much else. Loose azure waves fell to her shoulders, emphasizing the nakedness of her collarbone, teasing an onlooker to try to take a peek. Her skirt was so short it disappeared under the hemline and gave the impression of erotic hide-and-go-seek.

Oh, yeah…she obeyed perfectly.

His gaze roved over her with pure greed, even as he fought a grin at her entry. She was so different from any other woman, he was endlessly fascinated by the twist of confidence and vulnerability she exhibited.

"You didn't like the stares of the other men?" He challenged. "Doesn't it make you feel desirable? Sexy?"

"No, it made me feel dirty." She quipped, dropping her purse on the chair and glancing around. She obviously wasn't ready to lose the coat. "Like a freaking whore."

He poured her a glass of champagne and crossed the room. The scent of rich coconut and mocha drifted from her skin. "Whore, huh? You're judging by society's expectations again. Why shouldn't a powerful woman want to be a whore in her own bedroom? Such a negative connotation for a woman who demands pleasure and will do anything to get it." Vegeta's words caused a delicate shudder to rip through her body. Good. She liked the verbal images, and it reached her on a deeper level.

She dived into a change of subject. "I don't know if I feel comfortable at this hotel."

"Why?"

She nibbled at her lower lip. "The rooms are close and people may hear us."

He handed her the delicate flute. God, she was adorable. One moment a lioness, the next a shy virgin. "I'm glad you're thinking you'll enjoy yourself enough to scream, but I've taken care of the problem."

"Oh really, how?"

He smiled. "I bought all the rooms on this floor. We are completely alone."

She blinked. "Oh…good thinking."

"Thank you." He dropped his voice. "And necessary, because you will be screaming, Bulma…a lot."

Her fingers tightened on the stem of the glass, but she refused to cower. She tipped the glass up and took a long sip. Then met his gaze. "If you're lucky."

"Why don't you take off your coat?"

"Not yet. So, tell me, Vegeta, is this what men fantasize about women wearing? Because I'm here to tell you it's uncomfortable as hell and not much fun. This thong is riding up my ass in a permanent wedgie, and my breasts are held so tight together it's hard to breathe. Not the best way to get me in the mood."

He reached out and touched a strand of her hair. The heat from her body burned and pulled him in, making a mockery of her calm demeanor. Oh, yeah, she was definitely aroused. She just didn't know what to do with it and hoped to lock it up in a neat little closet. He looked forward to causing her much discomfort in the next few hours. His cock twitched in his pants.

"You're not pushing past the surface." He murmured.

"Behind the vague discomfort is the opportunity to let your body take over. The corset I picked out for you pushes your breasts out and makes your nipples more sensitive. Every breath you take is controlled and earned, so you're aware of the rush of air in your lungs." He kept up the slide of his fingers over her hair, tugging gently to wake up her scalp.

"When you're aroused, your nipples will harden and poke against the lace. The scratch will be a reminder of what my cheek may feel like against your breasts. The edge of your panties separate the globes of your buttocks and barely skim your mound. As you get wet, you'll be aware of each sensation. Discomfort brings awareness, Bulma, it's all part of eroticism."

Her pupils dilated. Yes. He knew she dampened at the stroke of his voice, her body finally letting go enough to make the connection with her brain. He imagined the tightness of her nipple under his tongue and the sweet arch of her hips as she opened for him. But first, he needed to strip all of her mental defenses.

He released her hair and took a deliberate step back. "Now, back to my original request. Take your coat off."

Surprise flickered across her face. "I'm cold."

His lips twitched. "I'll warm you up soon. For now, let this be a gentle reminder to the terms of our agreement. Full command. Full surrender."

His queen rallied. God, she was magnificent. Her eyes snapped cobalt heat and her fingers tugged open the buttons. "This is ridiculous." One. Two. "I can't believe I agreed to this sex scene. Just so you know, this is not turning me on, so I hope at least you get a thrill from this episode." Three. Four. She shrugged off the barrier and threw it on the velvet chair to cover her purse. "Satisfied?"

Oh, yeah.

He took in the fine black lace of her corset, which nipped in at the waist, squeezed her breasts, and lifted them up like a gift to the gods. The minuscule black skirt barely covered her ass. Her skin was flawless and begged for a man's touch. Gorgeous legs clad in sheer black hose ended in a pair of four-inch fuck-me heels where her fire-engine-red toenails peeked out in rebellion.

Time to reel in his stubborn lover-to-be. He switched to his dom voice, which vibrated with a confident power, and whipped through the room like a lash. "Turn around."

She jerked, blinked, but obeyed immediately, turning in a full circle so he could feast on the full globes of her rear, where the wisp of fabric hugged her most intimate body parts. His fingers clenched to touch the lush flesh and warm it to a nice pale pink. Instead, he crossed his arms in front of his chest and studied every inch of her. A delicate flush bloomed in her cheeks. Good. She was aware of his full attention and was off balance. "Have you ever had a man look at you like this, Bulma?"

She shook her head.

"Answer me, please."

Pure resentment and something deeper flickered. "No."

"When I ask a question, I want a verbal answer."

"Fine."

He kept the humor from his face and continued his appraisal. "A man is a visual creature. When a woman takes off her clothes, she's stripping her barriers and giving a precious gift. Her vulnerability. Do you know how that makes me feel?"

"How?"

"Honored…aching, like the anticipation of opening up a present, peeling off the paper and bow and uncovering a treasure. Let me tell you what I see when I look at you." His voice deepened and he let the vast want for her show on his face. "I see breasts that are already swelling and peaking, begging for my fingers and tongue. Your belly is quivering ever so slightly. I'd run my tongue down your stomach and over that tiny piece of lace, feel your heat and wetness and smell your arousal. Your legs are long and graceful, and I can imagine them wrapped around my hips and squeezing tight as I thrust inside you." Her chest lifted as she sucked in air. "I want to discover every hidden secret of your body and a thousand ways to make you scream my name." His eyes glittered and he moved forward. "A reminder of the basic rules. Do everything I say. No talking unless I ask a question, and absolutely no thinking. I'll do that for both of us tonight." He paused so his words had a moment to sink in. "Let's begin, shall we?"

Bulma burned. Her skin prickled as if she stood near to a raging fireplace while wafts of heat hit every exposed part of her body. She squirmed in discomfort and tried to lock onto the strange feeling that her body had separated from and left her mind behind. Her nipples ached behind the constricting binds of the corset, and the thong between her legs emphasized an achy pulsing between her thighs. Odd…she'd been aroused before. Even believed she neared climax a few times, but never had she been so turned on by a man who hadn't even touched her yet.

He stalked her slow and steady, letting her know she'd be under his command in a few minutes and there was nothing for her to do to stop it. A thrill shot through her. There was no one on this floor, and nobody knew she was here tonight. She was completely at his mercy for him to do anything to her body. Utter any outrageous comment he felt like. She had no clue what his next move would be, if he'd be gentle or cruel.

The knowledge turned her on…big time.

He was still fully dressed, in a white button-down shirt, tan khakis, and bare feet. She wanted to see his bare chest and run her hands over his skin. Was he covered in light hair or bare? He smelled of a mix of rich scents that made her dizzy.

She kept her position and refused to back down. If this was the beginning of round one, she'd be damned if she'd make it easy. He settled his palms on her naked shoulders and stroked down her arms, as if checking the muscles of a racehorse he contemplated buying. The thought helped ground her. "Do I pass your expectations?" She managed to keep her voice calm and cool.

"A broken rule already? No speaking unless I ask you a question."

She snapped her mouth shut and glared. Humor lit onyx eyes, but he kept his face impassive as he touched her. He interlaced his fingers with hers and pulled each one in a sensual massage. Her muscles tensed, waiting, but he took his time. He moved from her fingers to the swell of her breasts that pushed out to meet him. Caressed the erratic pulse at the base of her throat, the curve of her cheek, the sensitive line of her neck. Every inch exposed to his view was explored by his fingers until a melting sensation dropped in her belly.

She began to relax.

He knelt in front of her.

A strange noise bubbled from the back of her throat.

What was he doing? Fuck, he grasped her thigh and kneaded the muscles in her legs. Exploring behind her knee, sliding down her calves to her ridiculous heels that screamed sex. Up and down, until goose bumps peppered her flesh and every muscle clenched waiting for his next move.

"Take off your skirt."

She hesitated. A roaring filled her ears, and her clothes suddenly felt as if they were strangling her. His gaze drilled into hers and commanded her obedience. Before she could analyze the request, her thumbs hooked under her waistband and she dragged the material down her hips. The skirt fell to her feet.

His warm approval washed over her. He lifted one of her heels, then the other, and tossed the skirt to the side. "Very good. Now, don't move."

A gasp fell from her lips as he lifted her foot and placed one sharp heel on his shoulder. He pressed his mouth to her inner thigh, rubbing his cheeks back and forth over the sensitive skin. Her center throbbed and begged for more, but he seemed content to breathe her scent in and take tiny nibbles over the expanse of one thigh, then the other. She leaned against the wall for balance, and her fingers automatically came down to rest on his head. The sensations were exquisite. A swirl of his tongue, a nip of teeth rising higher to the place she needed it most. Though why was he going so slow? Did he want her to participate? She always sucked at this part, wondering how long she'd have to reciprocate with any oral sex given when she really didn't like it much. If she got this over with quickly, maybe they'd get to the real sex part sooner. His mouth moved higher along the edge of the lace and his hot breath blew over her swollen lips. Shit, they needed to move this along. Bulma fisted her hands in his hair and urged him to the spot she needed him to touch the most.

He backed away. She trembled and let out an irritable sigh. "What are you doing?" She asked. "Why did you stop?"

He shook his head with disapproval and rose from his knees. "Obviously, you're not one made to obey rules. So let's help you along, shall we?" Vegeta walked over to the small writing desk, slid open a drawer, and withdrew a set of handcuffs.

The outrageousness of the scene appalled her, and she threw her hands out. "Hell no, you are not using those on me."

"Do you trust me?"

"That's not what this is about."

One brow arched. "It's what this entire night is about. Trust. You trust me to get you where you need, and I trust you to obey."

"But I—"

"Do you, Bulma?"

If she lied she could go home. Fuck the contract, she didn't need an orgasm or more business control. Her mind screamed for her to grab her coat and get out. Instead, her hormones slapped her brain in a knockout punch. "Yes…I trust you."

"We're doing the cuffs. Hands out."

Her tongue dragged across her lip, but she held out her wrists. In some crazy way, she got wetter, her nipples nearing the edge of pain in a stark need to escape the corset.

He clasped the cuffs, checked the fit, and stepped back to survey her. "Much better." The fur lining encased her flesh with luxury. He tipped her chin up and took total control of her gaze. "You can't touch me. You don't have to wonder what move to make or what you need to do to make me happy. I own your body and I'll do whatever the hell I want with it now. Understood?"

A raw sizzle cut through her. She nodded, past the point of wanting to talk. A strange relief sagged her muscles as if reaching a new level, the complete truth of his statement shook her foundation. Suddenly, there were no more choices. No decisions to make. No right or wrong. He'd stolen it all and left her with nothing. Nothing but freedom.

Satisfaction and raw lust flickered in his eyes. "There we go." He murmured. "That's what I want." He lowered his head and claimed her mouth.

She opened her lips, nowhere left to hide, as he swept his tongue and conquered every dark crevice, thrusting in and out while he held her head still. Bulma moaned under the savage attack, unconsciously looking to touch him or help guide the kiss.

Her handcuffs clinked together. The sound drifted to her ears and caused a rush of wetness to trickle down her thigh. Oh God, she ached for him, but every time she tried to scissor her legs together for relief he held her tight against him, one thigh trapping her wide and open to his touch. He commanded every sensation, wracking shudders from her body while his tongue mated and tangled with hers. His fingers moved from her hair and dropped to her breasts. He stroked and teased the edges of her nipples, still imprisoned by the delicate bones of the corset, until she twisted wildly in an attempt to get more.

He bit down on her lower lip. "What do you want?"

"Touch me."

He kissed her long, deep and hard, ignoring her request, then finally broke away. Onyx eyes seared and commanded her to reach for more. "Where? If you want something, ask."

Embarrassment disappeared under a craving need to get what she wanted. "Take off the corset. Touch my breasts."

"Very good." He reached behind her and with deft skill unfastened the long row of hooks that held the fabric together. She sucked in a breath as sweet air rushed into her lungs, and her breasts sprang free. He cupped them in his warm palms and rubbed her tight nipples. She arched for more. "Like this?"

"Oh, please—"

"Tell me."

"Suck on them." With a lusty groan of approval, he dipped his head and took one nipple into his mouth. The hot wetness as he pulled and swirled his tongue around and around ripped a cry from her throat. Bulma twisted and once again reached out to hold on to something, but she was bound and at his mercy. Just like she wanted it.

The thought skittered past. Her nipples throbbed under his talented mouth as he moved from one to the other, but the realization she loved being handcuffed and ravaged like some sort of weak, pathetic female exploded in her consciousness. What was she doing? How could the CEO of the most powerful company in the world beg a man to do dirty things to her while she was helpless? A cold ball of ice settled in her gut, and she was dragged back to the familiar scene. Her body began to shut down, her arousal lessening with every second until a slight pop sounded in the air as he lifted his head from her breast. Vegeta studied her face. "God, you're stubborn." His lower lip quirked. "Thinking too much again, I see? I better up my game."

"Vegeta, I don't think this— _oh_!"

With no transition, softness, or warning, his hand slipped under the lace of her thong and plunged inside. Her hips bucked in demand and her body wept. The delicious friction of his fingers pumping inside her tight channel contrasted with the light, teasing stroke of his thumb over her clit. She tried to close her eyes to hide from her raw response, but he held her gaze with a fierce demand that refused to let her cower. Every naked expression and moan was his, and he reminded her of it with each stroke of those talented fingers.

The combination pushed her toward the edge, her straining toward the rapidly nearing orgasm, frantic to grab on before it shimmered away. Her clit swelled with each flick. The cuffs clinked. Vegeta slid his hand away, curled, and dove deep.

Oh, yes…right there.

"Oh God!" She shuddered, tipped on the edge, and— He backed away. The climax sliding out of reach.

She shook with frustration and anger. "Why did you do that? I was so close!"

"No talking or I'll gag you." Her eyes widened. "You're not even close to ready. As gorgeous as you look right now, I need more. Let's get you out of these clothes."

Temper simmered and coiled like a pissed-off snake.

She lifted her bound hands. "I can't do much with these on."

The slight whine in her voice filled her with humiliation. He didn't seem to mind, in fact, he looked quite satisfied with her reaction. The corset hung down by her tied wrists. She waited to see if he'd unlock her, but he took the piece of fabric and ripped it right down the middle. "That was expensive!"

His expression snapped her lips closed. No way did she want to be gagged. "Your clothes belong to me just as you do. I do what I want with them." He tossed the garment aside. Then grasped the edges of her soaking thong and pulled it down her legs. The heavy scent of her arousal filled the air. He stood back and surveyed her naked body, his gaze probing every inch of her as she stood still under his inspection like a slave girl at auction.

Her belly clenched in lust. She had this weird need to please him, give herself over to anything and everything he wanted. After all, she had no choice anyway. Each step led her deeper into a dark, twisted world she never knew existed.

"Fuck, you're beautiful. More beautiful than I imagined."

The truth of his words struck home. The erection that pressed against his pants. The burning heat in his eyes as he looked at her. For the first time in her life, she knew this man wanted her as badly as she wanted him. Before, she only experienced the motions of sex, the thoughts of arousal and give-and-take. Now, there was nothing but the bare bones of want, messy and vulnerable and alive. Her chest squeezed with a strange sadness and longing.

He gave her no time to analyze the emotions. In one quick motion, he bent and slid her over his shoulder and marched down the hall into the bedroom. He placed her on the bed. Cool satin sheets pressed against her over-heated skin. Her legs hung over the edge, feet still clad in her stiletto heels.

"Scoot back, Bulma. Head against the backboard, keep the shoes on."

She inched her way up. He nodded in approval, lifted her hands, and clipped the hook on the cuffs to a chain coming from the wall. It happened so fast, she never thought to protest, until she found her hands bound high over her head. He had chains above the bed? This was a respectable hotel. "I don't think—"

"I do." His voice snapped out and silenced her. Again, that crazy rush of liquid heat throbbed in her womanly core from his dominating tone. He pulled open the bedside drawer and removed a condom, laid it on the side and climbed on the bed. She tensed, her legs whipping close, but he grinned and shook a finger at her. "Bad girl. You never close yourself to me. Ever. Unless of course you want me to tie you spread-eagled on the bed."

Heat sizzled to her core. A moan rose to her throat.

Vegeta clasped both of her ankles and pried her legs apart. He knelt between spread thighs. "Hmm, I think you would like that. Maybe next time."

Next time? This was insane, she had to get out of here. She couldn't be who he wanted. Give him the satisfaction he needed with his partners. She was only playing a role, and soon her body would dry up like it always did. Her skin prickled with awareness. This road would only lead to more frustration and humiliation and pain. She had to get out of here, had to—

"Look at me Bulma. Eyes on me." Her panicked gaze swung to his, and she gulped for breath. "You have nothing to be afraid of with me. I would never, ever hurt you."

The fear faded, leaving only uncertainty. "I can't be what you want." She whispered.

His eyes blazed fire. Oddly, his face seemed to soften with a possessiveness she'd never glimpsed before. "You don't have to be anything. You have no choices left, I've taken them all away. I'm about to play with your delectable body, and there's not a damn thing you can do."

Relief loosened her muscles. Her arms sagged within the hold of the chains. There was nothing she could do. Whatever she felt or didn't wasn't up to her any longer. As she accepted the fact, Vegeta slowly unbuttoned his shirt. She took in with pure greed the gorgeous lines of his chest and shoulders. His pecs were clearly defined, the lean muscled strength of his meaty biceps and arms told her he worked out. Hard. The white shirt fell away, and she sucked in her breath at the tight six-pack of his belly. His skin was flawless and hairless. He lowered himself onto his elbows between her spread legs. Looked up at her naked body, and smiled.

The room tilted at the sight of his wolfish, purely masculine grin. Oh, he was about to feast all right. On her. Every part. The knowledge gleamed on his face, and the promise shimmered from his eyes. The sheer vulnerability of her position horrified and excited her. The image of her wet inner lips pulled open for him. Her pulsing clit on display for whatever he deigned to give her—his fingers, tongue, teeth, lips. Her skin pulled so tight over her bones she fought the urge to pull against her chains and twist with raw need for him to do his worst.

"I've spent nights wondering how you'd taste. Dying to dip my tongue into your heat and make you come against my mouth. But I won't make this easy on either of us." He paused in the pulsing silence. "You'll have to beg long and hard before I give you what you want, woman. I've earned it."

He dipped his head.

Bulma had experienced oral sex before. Mostly, she remembered how conscious she was about every action performed, constantly worried about how she smelled, how she tasted, and if her lover was even enjoying it. She'd faked her orgasms in half-assed, weak ways that men noticed until the only way to gain relief was to break up with them.

Vegeta caressed her trembling inner thighs as he nuzzled her cleft, moving his face back and forth over the small patch of azure there. The slide of his roughened cheek stung just enough to cause a delicious burn. Her channel clenched around emptiness, begging for more, but he only played for a long time. Breathing her in, murmuring dirty words against her pussy, and rubbing her clit with light strokes evenly on each side.

She dragged in a breath and fought for her slipping composure. She wanted to worry about a thousand different things, but her body wept for more, something to take away the growing tension that twisted her muscles and throbbed under her skin. Her vast world began to shrink in tiny increments until all she could focus on was Vegeta's next move. It seemed as if hours had passed before the first flick of his wet tongue coasted up and down, tiny tastes that only caused more frustration.

She moaned and pulled at the cuffs.

"You're not giving up that easily, are you?" He teased, using his thumbs to part her even wider. "Ah, your clit is poking from the hood, wanting more. Would you like more?"

She curled her fingers and grabbed desperately for sanity.

"I knew you'd be a worthy opponent." His eyes glittered with mad lust. "I was right. You taste divine." He opened his lips and devoured her.

A long, high shriek ripped from her throat. All expectations of what oral sex was and should be disappeared forever under the demanding lash of his tongue. He rotated different strokes in ways that made her toes curl in her fuck-me heels. Licking his way over her entire pussy, he laved the sides of her clit but never dragged his tongue over where she needed it most. His teeth nibbled ever so gently, causing just an edge of pain that tilted her toward climax, but never enough to get her there.

"Please." Her voice broke but she didn't care anymore.

"Oh, please, I need more."

"Not yet." She let out a long string of vulgar curses her mother would have passed out from hearing. His wicked chuckle drifted to her ears. "Did you just call the man who controls your orgasm an idiot?"

Her head thrashed from side to side on the plump pillow. His thumb dragged across her turgid nub again in punishment. Sweat pricked her skin. "I'm sorry, please, Vegeta. I need…oh, God I need—"

"I know what you need."

He dipped two fingers into her dripping channel. She clenched around him and tried to pull him in, but he moved too slowly, using her wetness to coat her clit and gently massage her aching flesh. Madness threatened. She needed that orgasm more than she needed breath. More than she needed a business contract. More than she needed anything. Her nipples stabbed toward the air in a plea for relief.

"Ask me, Bulma."

She blinked and rolled her hips as another wave of need and arousal washed over her. Her heels dug into the sheets. "What?"

He lifted his head. His gaze pinned hers, probing past every barrier she'd ever erected and hitting the darkest part of her soul. At that moment, she didn't care. She let him in for that brief moment and gave him everything. "Ask me." He whispered.

A sob broke from her lips. "Please, Vegeta, please let me come."

Raw possession stamped the features of his face and pure satisfaction emanated in waves from his body. "Good girl." He plunged three fingers deep inside, twisting and hitting the spot he had found before with firm, strong strokes. At the same time, his lips closed around her clit and he stroked his tongue right over the top. Once. Twice…she then exploded.

Bulma screamed as wave after wave of pleasure crashed through her. Her body shook helplessly underneath the raw onslaught, the release going so deep inside of her and exploding outward in layers. She was aware of his firm grip on her thighs as he held her open and continued licking her, throwing her into a bunch of mini convulsions that stretched out for endless minutes. She sank into the mattress, limp and sated. Her muscles shook and a haze drifted over her vision as she fought for consciousness. She had never experienced such an intense, physical experience in her life. She finally knew what she'd been missing. How could she have imagined this type of sex was even possible? Such mind-numbing, full-body pleasure that stole her sanity and made her soul soar higher than she'd ever known?

Her brain blessedly blank, she struggled to open her lids. Vegeta was staring down at her. He loomed over her, poised at her threshold, her legs held high in the air and close to his shoulders. Suddenly, her vulnerable position and what they were about to do snapped her back to reality. His massive erection pulsed and threatened an invasion she couldn't handle. Oh damn, she was still bound and helpless. Bulma tugged at her cuffs and fought for breath. Panic hit.

"Easy." He kissed her, long and sweet. "You are magnificent. I have never seen anyone as beautiful as you during an orgasm." His face lit with an inner light that fascinated her. "You give everything without a thought to holding back. Such a rare gift, and I will cherish it for my whole life."

His words soothed the holes in her soul and healed something she never realized was broken. Her body softened and she stopped fighting. He wouldn't hurt her. The knowledge pulsed in her gut and echoed in his face, now slightly strained as he kept his position without moving. She swallowed.

"You haven't won yet."

A delighted laugh broke from his lips. He kissed her deeper, swirling his tongue around hers and playing a game of thrust and parry. His penis pressed an inch farther. Wetness trickled down her thighs and an urgent pulsing in her core told her she was ready for another round. Was it possible? Again?

"I will." His voice changed to an arrogant demand that made her belly plummet. "Let's up the game, shall we?"

He rocked his hips back and forth as if he had all the time in the world. His features were strained, but he was solidly in control. The sheer command he had over his body and the helplessness of her own position shot fire to her womanly center. The sweet ache coiled tighter with the image of that full, thick length buried deep inside of her. How long had it been? Months? More like years. But what if she couldn't climax again? What if she froze up like she normally did and disappointed both of them? The image hit her full force.

"Boring you again, am I?" Her attention snapped back.

Before she could gather her thoughts, he bent his head and took her nipple into his mouth. Sucking hard on the aching nub, she moaned at the delicious sensations. His cock at her entrance, his heated body pressed to hers, his tongue sliding over her nipple. The sharp scrape of teeth wrung a cry from her lips, then unbelievably, she grew wetter. "Before you drift on me again, let me set the new terms. I'll give you two more orgasms because I'm in a generous mood."

She managed a snort even though she ached for more of his delicious torture. His hand plumped her other breast, readying her. "Impossible. You got lucky with the first."

"Two more, and you will apologize for all the rotten things you said about me tonight."

"Never."

"You will. And I get a marker."

She fought for breath as he pushed in another aching inch. Her thighs clenched. "You want a marker to write with?"

"No, a marker to be used for later. When I can punish you properly for your impertinence."

The sexual buzz melted her brain cells. "Punish? You want another night?"

His teeth closed around one tight peak and tugged. She gasped. "Yes, I want you another night." He edged farther into her channel. One more strong push and he'd fill her.

Suddenly, she wanted that feeling of belonging to a man, of invasion and possession. More than her next breath. More than losing. "Now say yes."

His eyes and voice demanded and refused to accept anything less than all of her.

She grit her teeth. "Yes."

Vegeta slid home.

As he buried his throbbing length between her legs, her body welcomed him like he belonged. Slick with juices, her tightness barely caused a hesitation and the fact of her complete helplessness struck again in full, crystal clear clarity. He filled every spare inch of her, fighting for space and not allowing her any room to hide. Hands bound over her head, legs open to him, his mouth at her breast, she shook with too many emotions and sensations to process, causing her a temporary sensory overload in vivid neon.

"No, no, no." She chanted, shaking her head back and forth. She fought to keep him from taking it all, but it was too late. Tears pricked her eyes.

"Look at me."

"Please, no, I can't."

"You can. Breathe, Bulma. Yes, like that, another one. You can take all of me, just let yourself feel. One more slow breath. Trust me." She clung to his words, calm and strong and sure. The breath entered her lungs and the fear slowly drained away.

Suddenly, as when a movie turns from black-and-white into startling Technicolor, her body sprang to life. The restriction eased and turned to a delicious friction. He moved in tiny increments, back and forth, eliciting a rush of wetness and gripping arousal. "That's it, relax and let me take you where we both want to go." The reminder that her hands were tied and she couldn't control the pace or angle added to the ratcheting sizzle and burn of anticipation. Her muscles released and he slid even deeper. He groaned. "Jesus, you're tight. So fucking good."

He grabbed her ankles and lifted them on top of his shoulders. Her spiked heels dug into his hard muscles and a thrill shot through her. He moved. All the way out in one slick slide. Paused. Then a slow, delicious glide back, over and over, on his own time and in his own way. Bulma had prepared for the familiar rush to the finish line. Her experiences before this had contained her lover pumping furiously while she tried to force herself to catch up and not disappoint. Orgasms were a stress she'd decided to leave behind. But not anymore.

Vegeta didn't give a shit about time. He played with her breasts with every rotation of his hips, sometimes gentle, sometimes deep and hungry. The erratic rhythms didn't allow her to anticipate or calculate a response. Suddenly, she craved more…much more. Her clit pounded in demand from the teasing scrape of his cock, and she ground her stilettos into his shoulders while she reached for more. The punishing bite of his teeth and his dirty laugh told her he knew exactly what she wanted and refused to give it to her.

"More." She moaned.

"No."

She pulled at her cuffs. His cock sank deeper into her channel until he seemed a permanent part of her. He shifted angle. Paused, and gently bit her nipple.

The flash of pain registered the same time he hit some special spot that made fireworks explode behind her closed lids. She panted. So close. She needed—

"Ah, you like that, huh? Right here?" He thrust again and an animal noise exploded in the air. Was that her? He chuckled. "Yes, that's the spot. And what if I did this?" He reached between their bodies and pressed down on her swollen clit. She wondered if she could die from sexual tension, so close to release yet kept on the edge for endless minutes. He rubbed lightly, back and forth, keeping his thrusts shallow and sharp, hitting the spot where white-hot heat coiled deep, ready to explode.

"Are you ready for your second orgasm?"

Pride and rationality vanished under the raw demand of her body. "Yes, please Vegeta, please."

"And you'll give yourself to me for one more night?"

His fingers flicked. She cried out. "Yes! Yes, anything you want, just please!"

"Open your eyes. I want to see your face when you come."

The words sent her over the cliff as much as his next hard plunge. His fingers and cock worked her faster, in perfect tandem with what she craved, and she flew apart for the second time that night.

The orgasm started from her toes and exploded through every part of her body. Bulma let go, arching under the violent spasms and giving up. Sobs broke from her throat at the excruciating pleasure that went on and on. He never broke his gaze, taking in every expression and cry as if it belonged to him. When she finally surfaced, she realized he was still buried deep inside her, fully erect.

Half drunk on a hormonal high, she roused herself enough to lift her head off the pillow. "What are you doing?" She slurred.

He pulled out and coaxed another shudder. Overly sensitized from back-to-back orgasms, she felt the edge of pain and pleasure blur. "We're not done yet. You owe me one more."

Her heart rate sped up. She tried to shake her head in a confident manner, but it felt like jelly attached to her neck.

"No, I can't. I don't want to."

A low laugh raked her ears. He reset an easy pace, giving her just enough rubbing motion to interest her in steady, slow peaks. Wetness leaked down her thighs, and she arched again into the biting pleasure. "Oh God, not again."

"A deal is a deal." He pressed her legs wider and changed to short, strong strokes that buried him balls deep. Too exhausted to think or move, she could only respond to what he commanded, and he brought her right back up to the peak and kept her there. Increasing to a brutal pace, he pounded into her with a primitive energy that turned her on, the damp slapping of their bodies, the sharp scent of arousal, along with the sweat-slicked slide of skin. Her belly coiled and she burned.

He gently squeezed her clit. "Come for me, Bulma. Now."

The command hit her ears the moment her body exploded. With a roar, he pumped his hips and gripped her tightly, spilling his seed. The raw satisfaction on his face soothed, almost as if he surrendered as deeply to the experience of their lovemaking as she had. The orgasm rushed on, claiming and wracking every inch of her body, until finally he collapsed on top of her.

Completely weak and helpless, Bulma sagged against her restraints. The empty part inside that had been completely filled moments ago suddenly widened into a chasm of emotions and mess. The tears that had previously threatened sprang free, and she turned her head in shame.

Her wrists were freed and Vegeta removed the handcuffs. Rubbing her sore muscles, he worked the tension from her hands, fingers, and arms, then dragged her to him. Tucking her into his chest, he pulled the covers over them and snuggled her into his arms.

"Let me go." She tried to move away but felt like a new-born colt, all gangly legs and off balance. She battled for her inner strength and fought against his embrace.

"Shh, you're not going anywhere." His grip was steel, and his voice and touch were gentle as he stroked her hair, murmuring soft words against her ear. "You're exhausted and need to rest. I've got you." The warmth of his skin and the comforter cocooned her in security and safety she hadn't experienced in so long, she didn't believe it had existed. Maybe just a minute. He smelled so good, and his tender strokes lured a hazy sleep to claim her muscles, dragging her down into the dark. Just one minute. As she eased into sleep, his whisper drifted toward her unconscious.

"What have you done to me?" She whispered.

Then she fell asleep.

Vegeta held her tight in his embrace and studied her face. Sweat matted the hair clinging to her forehead and cheeks. Breath rushed in and out of her swollen lips. With softly glowing skin and her long lashes gleaming with unshed tears, she reminded him of a sleeping princess waiting for her prince. A very well-fucked, satisfied princess.

His cock stirred.

What had happened?

Usually, he was always in complete control during a scene. He locked away his physical needs and concentrated on what his lovers needed from him. He had no problems holding back, no matter how sweetly they begged or cajoled or promised. He allowed release for both of them on his terms, keeping his emotions secondary. Not with Bulma. From the moment he touched her, he struggled to remain neutral. Her pleasure stoked his, but never had he craved to dig deeper, looking to strip her both physically and emotionally for his own claim. He never doubted she could orgasm. The idiot men before her deserved to be beaten for the bullshit they put in her head. No, he knew she needed a man to allow her to surrender and let her body rule that powerful brain. He had an instinct that she owned the soul of a bedroom submissive, just begging for someone to dominate and take control of her body.

It was the other parts that wrecked him. The way she gave herself to him during climax. The sweet cries on her lips as she begged him to take her. The trust and bravery for allowing him to restrain her on their first night together. The way her body lit up under his and snugly wrapped around his cock as if he belonged between her thighs. She overshadowed every woman before her. Like a drug, he craved his next hit. Though he just spilled his seed moments ago. He ached to take her again and again, bound her to his bed, and keep her there until she admitted that's where she wanted to be.

He expected a crash of emotion after such intensity. He usually took specific steps to contradict the crash, a blanket, a bottle of water, some soothing words and a comforting embrace. But the moment he spotted her tears, and her inner fury at such a weakness, he only longed to hold her close, rock her, kiss away her tears, and keep her with him.

Definitely not his normal reaction.

The delicious scent of coconut and musk and sex hit his nostrils. Under the lure of orgasm, he'd made her agree to another night. Why would he do that? The voice whispered the truth, and icy fear trickled down his spine.

Because he didn't want to lose her.

Already, after a few hours, he was hooked on Bulma Briefs. Fascinated by her honesty and strength and vulnerability, he only wanted more. Of course, it was impossible. Working together, yes. Perhaps an affair for a limited time with both of them clear on the outcome. Long term? Never.

The chill deepened.

Even though both had grown up in a loving household, his home was torn apart when he reached the age of thirteen. After his mother passed away from an illness, his father would spend hours away from him and his younger brother, Tarble. The two only relying on each other. However, when Vegeta turned seventeen his life was once again turned upside.

The media had gotten it wrong on how his father died. They mentioned it was a mere heart-attack, but in actuality, his father along with his younger brother, were murdered by another rival businessman named Frieza Korudo, who ran Icejin Corp. Vegeta was out during that time, but when he got home, he saw the man leaving his house, along with two other goons.

The records of his father's death were sealed away, mainly because Frieza had connections through the police force. But because Vegeta was still young, Frieza was able to capture his father's company and transform it completely. It had taken Vegeta until he was nineteen years old just to avenge the death of his brother and father. He wished he murdered the bastard, however, knowing that the man was wasting away in jail with no chance of parole was just as good. Of course once Frieza was locked away, Ouji Enterprises was left without a care, and without an owner. Luckily Vegeta was able to take it back and it took years trying to rebuild what his father had worked so hard to start. Sure the media says he took over when he turned twenty-three, but in actuality, he just never made it public that he was running the company since he was nineteen.

His life had been nothing but focusing on work and that was the reason why he never did long-term. He was too damaged to have any type of relationship because of what he went through his teenage and young adult years.

"Hey."

He blinked away his thoughts and smiled. Her husky voice was sexy as hell, and a faint blush stained her cheekbones. Adorable. His erection pressed against her thigh and her eyes widened.

"Hey." He ran a knuckle down her heated skin. "How do you feel?"

"Good." She rolled her eyes in self-mockery. "That's a lie. I feel incredible. Like gooey caramel, all warm and melty."

His cock twitched. That was exactly how she felt when he slid into her, cloaking him in rich clingy heat. He thought about tumbling her back for one more orgasm but knew she had to be sore. Time to take care of her comfort needs first. "There's a bathtub and walk-in shower in the bathroom. I'm going to start the water for you." He pressed a kiss to her temple, then slid out of bed and padded naked to the connecting bathroom.

The entire bathroom was black marble, except for the walk-in shower and large tub, which were tan tiles. Steam hissed from the walls and formed a thick cloud. He pulled onto another knob and warm water sprayed from the ceiling onto the tiles and the specially carved matching bench. He laid out some snowy white towels and the hotel robes, then made his way back to the bedroom.

Humor twisted his lips. She sat on the edge of the bed, wrapped like a mummy in the sheets. Her face reflected a blend of shyness and aggravation. She'd soon remember who was in charge and lose some of her innate inhibitions.

Crossing one ankle over the other, he leaned against the door. "Shower's ready."

Her gaze flicked over his fully erect dick and nakedness.

Her teeth pulled at her lip, then she stood up in a flash, shoulders back, blue eyes gleaming with stubbornness, she marched across the room like the Queen of Sheba with the sheets trailing behind her. Hesitating when she got close, he refused to move aside, wondering what she'd do.

With a haughty sniff, she stalked past him, dropped the sheet, and stepped into the shower. The doors closed with a relieved click and he bit back the urge to laugh out loud. His queen would soon realize there was no hiding from him. Anywhere. He allowed her a few minutes of privacy as he went back to the main suite area and poured glasses of water.

Loading them on a tray with some crackers, cheese, and veggies, he placed it on the table next to the lounge chair. He added two flutes of fizzy champagne and headed to the shower.

The expression on her face when he opened the doors and stepped in was priceless. Trying to look dignified with her hair wet and a deliciously naked body on display, she did a half turn, trying to hide her embarrassment. Vegeta was looking forward to blowing past every social nicety she ever had about sex. Including bathing together and what he could do with a shower nozzle.

His lips quirked. "Need some help?"

"No, thank you."

This time he laughed. Grabbed the loofah sponge she held in a death grip, and poured some gel into his hands. "Too bad."

With nothing to hold, she mustered enough courage to snort and turn her back on him, obviously picking the least embarrassing position. Her gorgeous ass and gracefully curving spine only made him thank God he was a man. There was nothing as sensual as a woman's rear, and Bulma's lean length and soft skin were made for his hands.

He stepped in and pulled her hips back to rest against him.

She sucked in her breath. "I can wash myself." Her body stiffened. "In fact, I'm all done, so if you will excuse me. . . ."

"Have you ever showered with a man before?" He dragged the soapy sponge over her breasts.

"Of course."

"Liar." He dipped down, making wide circles over her belly, hips, and upper thighs. His cock throbbed in the notch between her thighs. "I'm glad you haven't. I like showing you things for the first time."

The temperature dropped a few degrees and every muscle tensed. "I'm not an inexperienced virgin, Vegeta" She said coolly. "And I'm no charity case."

He spun her around and grabbed her shoulder-length wet hair. She gasped, bringing her hands up to his chest in a halfhearted attempt to push him away. He dragged her head back and loomed over her. "Don't ever say something like that to me again." Temper bit his tone. "You're a passionate, beautiful woman who had the unfortunate experience of meeting a bunch of assholes who wouldn't know how to find their own dicks in the dark. Your comment insults both of us."

Her pupils dilated with a touch of fear that soon changed to lust. He eased his grip, noting her ragged breathing and stabbing nipples. Oh, yeah. His bossy woman liked a man telling her what to do in the privacy of the bedroom. He lowered his head and spoke against her swollen lips. "Maybe I need to keep this mouth occupied as much as your brain."

He crushed her lips under his, drinking in her taste and essence and conquering her mouth. Each stroke of his tongue reminded her she belonged to him in every capacity. She gave it all back. He groaned under her sweet surrender, her own thrusting tongue tangling with his. She grabbed onto his slick shoulders and hung on while he pressed her against his chest and dipped her back to keep her slightly off balance. When she was soft and pliable, he slowly tipped her face up and broke the kiss. Her gorgeous ocean blue eyes gleamed with a swirl of naked emotions. He let her process for a moment, expecting her to beat a hasty retreat he intended to halt.

"I feel stupid."

Surprise made him draw back. "Why do you feel stupid?"

She squeezed her eyes shut and reached for courage.

"I'm thirty years old and I've never done this—this stuff before. I don't know the proper way to be."

Her honesty shook him. Something deep inside flamed to life in demand, but he didn't recognize the emotion so he pushed it back down. She was a child-woman with more courage than most men he'd met.

He pulled her to him and rested his forehead against hers. He lifted her hands and pressed a kiss to both palms. "You don't have to be any certain way. Your only job is to feel and not worry about anything. I'll take care of you."

She shuddered. A bolt of need shot through him like a stray bullet tearing through vulnerable flesh. He didn't know how to process the intensity, so he focused on the naked woman in his arms and what he could do to please her. This time, when he began the soapy trail over her skin, she allowed him full access. A rumble of pleasure purred from her throat as he washed every inch of her, using a gentle rotating motion that soothed and aroused. Her nipples were treated to the rough side of the loofah, and they peaked with interest, turning a beautiful ruby red that matched her Snow White lips.

He dropped to his knees. Her body was created to be lost in. From her gorgeous length of leg and thigh, to the perfect patch of hair that masked her sex, down to her scarlet toes. He cleansed her with a tenderness he'd never experienced with another woman, urging her to part her legs for him. With a hiss of breath, she obeyed.

Her arousal elicited a primitive rush of victory, her pink inner lips glistening from water and her own moisture. He pressed the sponge to her mound and rubbed, making sure to work back and forth in a light rhythm. She arched her back and moaned, her breasts thrust forward like a pretty present. God, he should give her a rest, but he'd already gone too far to stop. He had to make her come again, feel her splinter apart around him and surrender to what he did to her.

"Turn around."

Her pause gave him what he needed. He slapped her ass with one hard strike. She jerked in reaction, her eyes wide with outrage. Vegeta looked beyond and waited. Yes. Her nipples tightened further and the pulse at her neck beat rapidly. He bet an erotic spanking would give her intense pleasure, but he needed to be sure it was something that didn't scare or horrify her.

A frown snapped her brow, but he stared right back and repeated the command. "Turn around. Now."

She did. The lush curve of her buttocks was a beautiful flushed pink from the steam and his hand. Vegeta started at her heels and worked his way up, lingering on the backs of her thighs, hips, and lower back. He straightened and dragged the sponge over her shoulders, tickling the nape of her neck, switching back and forth from the smooth to rough side so she was constantly kept off balance. The slight tremble in her legs and the tension in her muscles told him she was ready.

He sank to his knees. Urged her legs farther apart, and pressed the loofah against her pussy. She shook and tried to remain still, but he kept the torture up by sliding the coarse side over her sensitive nub at the same time he bit the luscious arc of her ass.

Her hands reached out to grab onto something and found the tile wall. The steam and heated spray drenched them and only added to the eroticism. Vegeta growled low in his throat, dying for more. He spread her cheeks wide and ran his tongue along her dripping slit at the same time he rotated the loofah against her clit. She screamed as the orgasm hit hard and long. He never paused, lengthening her pleasure as her cries mingled with the hiss of steam and his tongue licked without pause. Finally, she shuddered and sagged against the wall. He rose and pulled her against him. He pressed his lips to her temple and stroked her back. Mini convulsions shook through her and she snuggled against him as if she had found her home.

"Yeah, you're a real charity case." He grumbled, trying to get his head back in the game and distract himself from his raging hard-on. Her husky laugh raked across his ears in a caress.

"And you're a bully."

"Never."

"You're a sex maniac."

He lifted his brow. "Trust me. If I do my job correctly, you'll be a sex maniac also."

A cloud drifted over her face, and she tipped her chin up to look at him. "Am I a job, Vegeta?"

Her honest question demanded more from him than ever before. He pushed past the discomfort and answered.

"No." The next words dried up and he was glad. He wasn't ready for anything more.

Her features eased into relaxation and a teasing smile played about her lips. "Good. Now, what about you?"

He glanced down at his stiff member and shrugged.

"Forgot the condom while we played water sports. No big deal."

"You really think I'm mouthy?"

He tugged on a wet strand of hair. "Hell, yes."

"Then maybe I should do something to keep myself occupied."

He had no clue until she knelt in front of him with a ballerina's grace that took his breath away. He reached out to stop her, the night was not about him, but the moment her lips opened and slipped over his pulsing length, he was a goner. He swore he'd only allow her to experiment until she felt comfortable, knowing Bulma was unsure of her skills and needed to learn to trust her instincts. The lesson turned on him in a heartbeat. With long, deft strokes, she sucked and licked with a heady enthusiasm and purity that left him helpless to fight. Using her hands to fist his dick and pump up and down, she continued her ministrations until he exploded, the orgasm diving deep and radiating through every pore in his skin.

When the room stopped spinning, the little minx rose to her feet. Tossed him a purely feminine, purely satisfied grin and walked out of the shower, her naked buttocks winking at him in sheer mockery.

Oh, hell, he was in trouble.

Big trouble.

He shook his head, shut off the water, and followed her out.

* * *

Who would've thought the ice queen had turned into a raging Nympho?

Bulma wrapped the terry robe around her. Her muscles were limp noodles and an inner peace radiated from within. Was this what great sex did to a woman? Turned her brain to mush and plastered a stupid smile on her face?

This was dangerous in real life. No wonder women acted like fools under a man's spell. Vegeta only had to crook his finger and she fell to her knees. Happily. Oddly, her reaction didn't bother her as much as before. Maybe she was so sexed out no worries were able to penetrate any brain cells. Tomorrow she'd probably wake up in a full-fledged panic attack. Maybe. Maybe not.

She watched him stalk out of the shower. He wore a relaxed expression and finally owned a limp dick. Not for long, she bet. The man was a sexual dynamo, and for a little while, he belonged only to her. The possessive thought threw her off for a moment, but she refused to analyze it. He grabbed a towel, wrapped it around his waist, and turned.

"Like what you see?" He smirked at her.

Bulma's face flushed red, then turned away from him. Vegeta chuckled at her.

"No need to pretend. You certainly enjoyed it earlier." He then reached out towards her. "Come with me, you must be hungry." He intertwined her fingers with his and led her back to the bedroom.

They feasted on crisp crackers, creamy cheese, and sweet peppers, washing it down first with water and then champagne. He lifted her feet into his lap and massaged the tender insteps, sore from the high heels. Surprised she didn't feel awkward after the various intimate encounters, she relaxed into conversation about work, then chatted about her upbringing with her older sister.

Swirling the golden liquid in the delicate flute, she broached her next question with care. "How was your childhood?"

His fingers paused. "...It was normal." She fought a groan as he kneaded the tight muscles in her hamstrings. "I got into some fights when I was a kid, and like you I had a sibling."

"You had a sibling?"

"Yes, a younger brother named Tarble."

"Wait. You said had a sibling. What happened to him?" She asked him.

"…He was murdered. Along with my father."

She looked at him surprised. "But I read that your father died of a heart attack."

"That's because his murderer had ties within the law and his murder was sealed away. If someone wanted to look deeper, they would find that he was murdered just so the bastard who murdered him did it so they could gain rights to my father's company."

"I'm so sorry."

He bent his head. Sucked in a ragged breath. And spoke. "I never talk about my past, Bulma. I went through a lot of shit after the death of my father and brother and bringing it up again brings back bad memories."

She wanted to know a bit more about his past. But this wasn't the time or place to push.

"Understood. After all, business is business."

His gaze warmed and the ghosts receded. She sucked in her breath as the familiar heat took hold. Vegeta wrapped his fingers around her ankles and dragged her close. "Exactly. I think it's time to get back to our own negotiations."

Bulma ignored the rush of joy and chalked it up to sexual hormones. "I thought we had concluded our business. Three orgasms definitely wins the bet."

He gave a wolfish smile. "Then just call me an over-achiever." He then covered his body with hers.

She had never known losing could be so sweet.

BlueMoon Goddess: Well I hope you all enjoyed this extra-long chapter! And I even gave a little insight on Vegeta's past, so I hope you enjoyed that. Hopefully it doesn't look like it conflicted with anything from previous chapters. If it did, let me know and I'll fix it. Anyway, like always, since this was a long chapter, it's going to be a while before the next chapter is updated. However…if I get a lot of good reviews and a certain amount, I might update the next chapter within my usual two weeks. So like I always say, until next time guys! ^_^


	8. Chapter 8

BlueMoon Goddess: I'm happy people enjoyed the hot steamy action between Bulma and Vegeta last chapter! It was really hot for you guys that some of you even wished to be in Bulma's place, lol. This chapter will be having even more action, so be ready. Also, I'm glad you all liked the bit I added about Vegeta's past and why he has a problem getting into a serious relationship. More of Vegeta's past will be mentioned a bit more in later chapters, so be on the look-out for it.

Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ, its character's or the book "The Marriage Merger" by Jennifer Probst

Summary: Having been burned by relationships before, Bulma Briefs has stayed on her family's businesses, keeping work her main priority. That was until Vegeta Ouji, lured her out of her workaholic lifestyle with an irresistible offer. She shouldn't be trusting him, but his powerful onyx gaze has her rethinking the best use of a conference room, is the riskiest proposition.

* * *

Vegeta paced the unfinished lobby of Black Pearl with the team. The roar of power tools filled the air, and the scent of wood, oil, and paint rose in his nostrils. The empty building of the popular Le Méridien hotel had been abandoned for years. A lonely, sprawling piece of architecture that created a longing in downtown New York. After years of working on buying the building, he'd finally won. He'd taken the first step in making his mark in the world and obtaining a slice of immortality. It was the best he could ever hope for.

The structure owned the old-world grace he needed to make his mark here. The marble winged horse in front led to an elegant building with a crumbling white facade amidst the bright red doors lending distinctive character. There were two full restaurants and lounges within the building, and one of them would be replaced by a modernized version of entertainment and the best of technology brought in for a media suite for business. Already furnished, each room needed to be made over and renovated while decisions of what furniture and structures should remain and what should be ripped out boggled his team of designers.

Pride surged as he led the team through the slowly developed rooms. They chattered as his second assistant took notes and Vegeta guided them toward his vision, pointing out where each of their respective spaces would be housed. When he stopped in front of the restaurant area of Blue Lilies, he paused to direct his attention to Bulma.

He had told her about the murder of his father and brother.

The memory alone wrecked his concentration.

Their murder alone was enough to change his viewpoint in life about settling down. And other than the few happy times he spent with them, he had no soft memories to hold on to. Their murder basically ruined any good memories he had of them, because whenever he tried to look back and remember their faces, all he saw was their bodies, motionless on the ground and lying in their own blood. The memory alone just made him feel worse and in pain. But yesterday, when Bulma asked about Tarble and he told her the story, he surprisingly felt like a weight had been lifted off his chest. He never told anyone else about what really happened to his father and brother, and yet telling Bulma made him feel better. His heart squeezed with so much emotion he couldn't process the flood. He refused to analyze the weakness. Much better to concentrate on her stinging anger and insults than on something like this. He might never recover.

A whole week had already passed, and he'd been swamped every evening with work. When he finally dropped into bed, slumber eluded him. Only the image of her naked body and wet heat rose to his closed lids until sleep was impossible. He ached for another evening, but had decided earlier on to wait. Another night spent in her company might throw him off his game, and he needed to be in control in order to keep giving her the pleasure she deserved. It was also good for his suddenly slipping emotions. When was the last time he'd actually gotten mushy over a woman? Wondered how her day was going, or what she was eating for lunch, or what television show she watched before bed?

Never.

The answer was simple. Pull back for a bit, and then go in for another night once he was solid. And to think he'd been worried about her getting attached.

He cleared his throat. "Bulma, as we discussed, we're preparing Blue Lilies to take up this main space for foot traffic. You'll need to pick your team carefully for this one since we won't have the main equipment on the floor."

She nodded and examined the empty space. Her severe black suit was his personal favorite. It was the most conservative, with a pencil-slim skirt and a double-breasted jacket that covered most of her delicious assets. With her hair twisted up tight and her proper white blouse, the urge to rip away her prim demeanor engulfed him. He always loved the naughty librarian fantasy. Maybe he'd make her keep the suit on. Hike the hem up her thighs, lay her back on the desk, and rip off her panties. He'd test her control by commanding her not to make a sound, then do everything with his tongue and teeth to make her scream.

His cock rose and he quickly switched his thoughts. All he needed was Tai to think she turned him on and he bet he'd get a late night visit. Her designer skills were flawless, but she reminded him of a female predator. Vegeta shuddered internally at the thought.

Bulma spun on her heel. "I can make this work. Though I'd rather have the other space we discussed."

His lip twitched. Damn, she had spunk. He'd assumed she'd pretend the erotic evening had never happened. Instead, she'd switched into full business mode without a hitch. No heated glances across the conference table or blushes when their gazes met. She treated him with the detachment of a business partner, which drove him even crazier.

"Actually, I do remember the discussion. Since I was able to clearly demonstrate why that wasn't a possibility, I'm surprised you brought it up."

"Hmm, I guess I forgot." She kept her voice bland.

"Perhaps the conversation should've been more memorable."

He almost choked at her impertinence. His assistant shot him a strange look, then went back to his notes. She also owned a wicked sense of humor. Oh, she was going to pay for that remark. Only his endless practice of hiding his emotions allowed him to press down his growing arousal. "Perhaps you're right." He pinned her with his gaze. "I'll be sure to make myself clearer in the future."

Her delighted smile ruffled his nerve endings. "Good. Practice makes perfect." She chirped. "Now, let's check out the kitchen. I want to be sure the setup is what we agreed upon."

Her heels clicked in front of him in a siren's song. Her gracefully swaying ass lured him to follow, and he realized she had blossomed to her full power.

God help him.

They toured the site, tweaked plans, and finally finished in the late afternoon. He made sure he escorted the other members of the team out first. Would she follow his lead and allow him some alone time? Sure enough, Vegeta spotted her lingering with another member of the crew. Was she just as desperate to touch him? Like a horny teen, he wanted his hands all over her, his full week of celibacy at the limit. He did a quick sweep of the room and tried to catalogue a safe place he could get her naked without giving the construction crew a thrill.

He came behind her when the crew member was finished talking to her. "Bulma."

"Hmm?" She turned to him, questionably.

"Follow me." Was all he said, as he turned and started for the back room. Raw materials blocked most of the space, but he'd spotted a sturdy wooden table in the corner that would serve his purpose. She trotted after him, not saying anything.

"Over here." The room was dark, as he guided her deeper into the space until her back pressed against the table. Sawdust and pieces of wood were scattered over the surface, so he grabbed the rag near him and wiped off the table. "Sit up here for a moment."

"Okay…and why am I sitting on a construction table?"

Anticipation ripped through him. "Because I want to make you come."

He watched the emotions ripple over her face. Shock. Fascination. Fear, and lust. He stepped in between her legs and eased the hem of her skirt up. She offered no resistance, her mind evidently working into a steam of rational lectures on exactly why this wasn't a good idea. He took advantage of the pause, widened her thighs, and pushed her back so she was off balance.

Her hands gripped his shoulders. The pulse beat madly at the base of her throat, and her scent rose to his nostrils. Coconut, a hint of vanilla, and rich coffee. He dipped his head to the naked curve of her neck and breathed deep. She sucked in her breath and tried to push him away.

"Are you crazy?" She whispered. "You can't say things like that. The construction team is here, and this is a public building. You may like acting out a porn movie in public, but this is not what turns me on."

He growled and bit the tender flesh behind her ear. A shudder wracked her body. "I'm not into public displays, either. In fact, the idea of another man seeing you naked makes me want to beat the shit out of him." Her fingers bit into his suit jacket and her legs trembled. God, he loved making a liar out of her. She loved the excitement of being told what to do, and though he'd never share, the bite of danger only added to the sizzle. "I gave you time to be nice, and all you did was torture me this week."

A low moan rumbled from her throat. "I did nothing of the sort. I never even mentioned our night together."

"Exactly." He ran one hand up her skirt and found warm skin with no stockings or pantyhose to block his path.

His finger traced the edge of her silk underwear and realized she was already wet. Frigid? This woman was hotter than Hades. "Did you dress like this for me? Did you hope I'd finally snap and do what I've dreamed about every day at that conference table?"

Her outrage only made his dick swell to full staff. "Of course not." Her breath hitched as he stroked a thumb over the delicate fabric. "I—I was waiting for you to mention it. I refuse to be one of those women. Clingy and helpless and begging for a man."

The knowledge she was just as off center as he was soothed him. He'd thought giving her time and space would help. Now he realized he should've yanked her in his arms and kissed her senseless the very next day. His fault. He intended to fix it now.

"You'd never be helpless. I've been dying to get my hands on you all week but wanted to give you time."

She arched toward him for more. "That was polite of you."

"Time's up." He took her mouth like he'd been fantasizing. Claimed her lips, stroking long and deep with his tongue, inhaling her flavor like an alcoholic on a binge.

He pressed his palm over her core and rubbed, and she wrapped her legs tight around his hips and hung on. She licked fire and need and lust, and his body tightened with an urgency that fogged his brain and drove him forward to take and take and take. . . .

"Hey, boss!"

His fingers paused an inch from her dripping channel. He tore his mouth from hers and fought for sanity. Bulma stiffened, her eyes wide with worry, her wet lips slightly bruised from the kiss. "Yeah?"

"We're gonna wrap up here for the day. You need anything else?"

Vegeta prayed his voice was steady. "Nope, I'm all set. See you tomorrow."

The sound of equipment being dragged and mutters from the men drifted into the room. Slowly, he removed his hand from under her skirt and gently tugged it down. He smoothed the stray tendrils of hair back from her cheeks and placed a gentle kiss on her pale pink lips.

"Will you meet me at the hotel again?"

"Yes."

Relief cut through him. He didn't want to remind her she owed him another night. The admission of her own desire to be with him was a sweet gift. He helped her off the table, took her hand, and led her out. Before he let her go, he bent his head and whispered in her ear.

"You may not be helpless or clingy, but you will beg. I promise."

He nipped her lobe, grinned, and took off. The curse word that drifted in the evening air was blistering, but well worth it.

* * *

"Bulma, are you feeling well?"

She paused chopping tomatoes and looked at her mother. A suspicious frown marred her brow, and her stare probed past the surface. Oh God, was it possible her mom knew she was having sex? Bulma dropped the knife and adjusted her sweater, hoping there weren't any telltale bruises or bites evident. Her second encounter with Vegeta the other night had continued to blow away all images of normalcy. He pushed every boundary she erected and took pleasure in proving her wrong about who she imagined she was. Handcuffs, shower sex, and now toys. She fought a shudder when she thought of all the delicious ways a vibrator could be used. Soon, she'd be into orgasms into the double digits. Who would've thought?

She swallowed and refocused on chopping. "Sure. Why do you ask?"

"Your skin looks different, and you were humming."

Horror flooded through her. She did not sing or hum. This was getting bad. "Umm, no, I went to the spa the other day. Got a facial and massage and I feel better."

"Hmm."

The tomato rolled across the chopping board and Bulma grabbed for it. Did sex actually make a woman glow? Of course, she'd been majorly backed up for years, so maybe her body needed to catch up a bit before settling down again. Made sense. Time for a subject change. "So I spoke to Krillin recently?"

Her mom turned back to the stove. The scent of garlic, onion, and escarole filled the air. "Really? How is he doing?"

"He's doing great. He and Eighteen are preparing for Marron's birthday."

"That's wonderful! Last time I saw Marron, she was a baby. We must have them over the house sometime. "

Bulma chuckled. Her mother did always have a soft spot for Krillin. "I'll make sure to tell him."

A knock sounded on the door. Her mother wiped her hands on her apron and shooed her away. "Ah, could you get that Bulma?"

When she opened the door, Vegeta stood on the front step, a cheerful bouquet of blooms in his hand. His eyes darkened with erotic memories, and it took all of her control not to blush. He had told her yesterday that he was coming over for Sunday dinner, with the insistence of her mom. But before Bulma could protest, he had gave her another round of orgasms.

She led Vegeta to the kitchen as Panchy turned around. Gave her greetings, and cooed over the flowers, then turned and walked back to her station, finishing up her last touches. "I hope you brought your appetite. Dinner will be ready soon."

Big wooden bowls of freshly made ravioli with sauce came out, along with crusty bread and bottles of red and white wine were placed on the table. Panchy urged them to take seats at the heavily carved pine table, and they fell into a comfortable rhythm of eating and small talk.

"Tell me more of this deal." Dr. Briefs asked. "I understand Blue Lilies will be exclusive to Black Pearl hotels. When is the opening?"

Bulma spoke up. "Sex months."

Silence dropped. The three of them stared at her as if she'd sprouted horns, and suddenly, she realized what she said. Holy crap. Talk about a Freudian slip of epic proportions.

"Excuse me?" Dr. Briefs squinted as if his eyes were failing instead of his ears.

Vegeta tightened his lips, but those onyx eyes danced with delight.

She leaned over and raised her voice. "I said six months, dad."

"Oh. Very ambitious."

"Yes, it was an ambitious undertaking." Vegeta sipped his wine and dragged his thumb around the rim of the glass.

"But quite worth the effort."

Bulma's belly dropped. He got that same look on his face whenever he was intent on teasing her to orgasm. That talented thumb had done wicked things to her clit, her nipples, and her mouth that should have been illegal. Thank God it wasn't. Heat crept under her skin and made her itch. She crossed her legs to try and relieve the ache. "Vegeta has a way of getting what he wants." Bulma offered. "He doesn't take no for an answer when he has a certain vision in mind."

"Your father is like that." A soft smile came on Panchy's lips. "He believed he would make a success of the Capsule Corp. No matter what others said about him and that his inventions would never work. We believed in his work and look at him now." She reached over and gripped his hand, both of them smiling lovingly at each other.

Bulma sighed. "I still remember being fascinated by his office. I'd sit at the chair and watch him work on his latest technology. He even gave me a few things to work on."

Vegeta grinned. "You helped him when you were little?"

Dr. Briefs nodded. "I always involved Tights and Bulma within my work. However, Tights never cared for it too much and only did some of my projects as more of a bonding time." He gazed at Bulma from across the table with a proud glint in his eyes. "Bulma showed great talent, but she is most like me. We are very close and seemed to enjoy the days in and outs of creating new capsules and other various technologies."

Bulma chewed the last of her ravioli and blotted her mouth. "Dad started letting me into his lab every day after school to work with him on any project he had."

"Did you start working after college?" Vegeta asked.

She shook her head. "Oh, no, there wasn't time for college. I was working there part-time during my high school years, and when I graduated went straight to work. Dad showed me everything I needed to do in order to run Capsule Corp in the future. By the time he was ready to step down, I was ready to take over as CEO."

"Did you ever want to do something else?"

Bulma whipped her head around at Vegeta's voice. He had finished his ravioli and asked the question with a curiosity that puzzled her. She blinked, thinking about the question. Did she? No, she was never given a choice to do anything else. How many people did she know who whined and groaned about their parents choosing their future? Sure, she sometimes wished for a more carefree youth—with college dorm parties and late-night drinking.

When she remembered her teenage years, most of them were taken up with learning how to cope in the big world of business, and create great technology to help the world. Instead of going on dates, she pored over spreadsheets because her dad counted on her. There was no room for error or to disappoint her father. Tights had long decided about not taking any part in Capsule Corp, so Bulma knew she needed to step up and make him proud. A choice? No, there had been no choices.

The table quieted, and she realized everyone at the table waited for her answer. Was that a glint of regret in her father's eyes or a trick of the light? Bulma lifted her chin with pride and spoke. "I've never been happier with my decision. And I have no regrets."

Her mother cleared her throat and rose. "Who's ready for the second course?"

Roasted, tender lamb with a hint of mint, bowls of escarole soaked in garlic and oil, and creamy polenta was passed around as Panchy talked of her youth and the antics of her children.

"Vegeta, you may get a chance to see an old friend of Bulma's. His name is Vale."

"Vale Wilson?"

"Yes, you know him?"

"He's an old associate I met years back in Nebraska, while working on a business venture with him."

"Well, he is planning a visit soon. Ah, how Tights and Bulma had such crushes on him!" Panchy gushed.

Bulma snorted. "Only for a bit. Tights was mad about him for years. Though I did hear he got married recently and now he's perfectly happy with his new wife."

Vegeta turned his full attention toward her. "Is that so?" He drawled. "Seems he was quite the ladies' man."

She rose to the challenge. "Oh, you don't seem too far behind. Val told me you courted some woman in Vegas. Maybe there was even an old-fashioned duel over her."

Panchy looked up from her plate with interest. "Really?"

"Yep. Val mentioned it to me before the wedding. Something about a fight between Vegeta and some other guy." She turned toward him and asked. "Did you lose?" He lifted a shoulder in a half shrug, and she clucked her tongue in mock sympathy.

The knowledge Vegeta once lusted after another women cut deeper than she thought. She tried to act disinterested and not embarrass herself. Now that their two nights were over, they hadn't discussed another encounter. Perhaps it was even over between them. It wasn't like they had a real relationship. "Too bad. Though I'm sure you found a decent consolation prize in place of the real thing."

His fork clattered to the plate. She lifted her gaze. His eyes snapped with male irritation and blazing heat. Her heart clamored while she fought to remain unaffected under the magnetized sexual tension pulling her in. The naughty part of her fantasized about crawling across the table, climbing onto his lap, and riding him hard.

Panchy gasped in shock. "Bulma Briefs, what has come over you? That was a rude thing to say to our guest."

She squirmed at the scolding. This man made her lose her temper in ways she'd never experienced. "Sorry." She muttered.

"Accepted." Vegeta pinned her with his merciless gaze. "But let me make something quite clear. I don't settle for consolation prizes, Bulma." He stated softly. "Understood?"

The hidden meaning behind his words soothed and aroused. Heat flooded her cheeks so she ducked her head and concentrated on her meal. Maybe this whole thing had been a bad idea. Her complicated emotions regarding Vegeta were causing an undercurrent of tension. Even her parents seemed to notice something off, their sharp gazes bouncing back and forth as if trying to figure it out.

* * *

Bulma stood and cleaned up, keeping herself engaged with the dishes and sorting the leftover food into containers. Her father chatted with Vegeta while Panchy made come coffee and pulled out an apple tart.

What was wrong with her? Did she want a relationship with Vegeta? The idea seemed impossible, but her body craved him on a regular basis. She'd never thought she'd be the type of woman to be comfortable with a purely sexual relationship, but then again, she'd never had a man able to give her an orgasm. And even if she was interested, Vegeta had clearly communicated his desire to avoid long-term commitments. It was probably best they end their whole affair now, before she got too pulled in. She refused to allow herself to become one of those weak-willed women asking for affection. She had too much pride. Getting addicted to him would be disastrous, and she was positive she'd last years on just those orgasms alone.

Bulma took a sip of her coffee, then took a bite of her tart. "We should get going soon, mom and dad. We have a long week ahead."

"Of course." Dr. Briefs turned towards Vegeta. "It was good seeing you again Vegeta."

"Yes, and we hope to see you next Sunday as well." Panchy chimed in.

Vegeta smiled at them. "Of course."

Bulma led Vegeta towards the front door. But before she managed to open the door, He put his arm out, preventing her from opening it and trapping her against it. "What's going through that mind of yours, Bulma?"

She tried not to notice the heat of his body against hers. Along with the delicious scent of musk and spice. But it was a losing battle. "Nothing we should discuss at the moment."

"I disagree. Considering my dick was deep inside of you less than twelve hours ago, I think I deserve to know your thoughts."

She stopped and whirled around. He'd moved in like a silent predator, and her body softened into a pool of goo. She would've given money to be able to claim frigidity now. Her ice queen status was officially trumped by a constant stream of horniness that annoyed the hell out of her. She clung to the annoyance and tried to ignore the hormones.

"Don't say things like that." She hissed. "We're in my parent's house, and their down the hall."

"Who aren't about to overhear us at the moment. You're trying to rationalize this thing between us, aren't you?"

She hated his astuteness. Why did he have to look so hot all the time? Narrowly cut black pants and a taupe shirt that showed off all his glorious assets. His hair was perfectly tousled for that right-out-of-bed look and smelled freshly washed. Her fingers curled in rebellion. She ached to drag him close and feel that delicious mouth move over hers. Taste his scent that got her drunk. Instead, she needed to have a logical conversation about not sleeping with him again. "I don't think we should continue seeing each other."

"I disagree."

Her mouth hung open. "I just told you this—this thing between us needs to end."

His lips tightened. "And I said no."

Frustration snapped her nerves. Why couldn't he just go away like most men who got rejected? "Well, too bad. Our verbal contract is over. You won. We need to concentrate on Black Pearl and getting ready. Let's agree it's been a lovely experience, shake hands, and move on."

He tipped his head back and laughed. Bulma glowered.

"Oh, you're good. Lovely experience, huh? Shake hands?" He moved so fast she had no time to fight. He yanked her hard against him and devoured her mouth in a kiss so carnal, so outrageous, her toes curled in her boots and her nipples stabbed into hard points and she moaned helplessly beneath the deep strokes of his tongue. Vegeta ripped his mouth away and breathed hard. "Who do you think I am, one of your lackeys? Do you really believe you can control this thing between us by declaring it over?" Lust, greed and want carved out the features of his face. Bulma stared back at him, fascinated by the raw emotions. "I say no. I'm not going to pretend to shake your hand when I'd rather push my fingers between your legs and make you come. I'm not smiling politely when I'd rather kiss you senseless and force you to confront the woman you are."

She pushed at his chest, but he didn't budge. "I know exactly who I am." She whispered furiously. "A grown woman who makes her own decisions based on logic. A few orgasms between us isn't enough to risk this deal or my sanity."

"Tough shit." He sneered. "I'm not going anywhere, and I don't play by the rules. You want to sleep chaste and alone in your own bed, fine. But I'll be flanking your side every day, reminding you of what I can give. I don't walk away from something because it's messy and real, Bulma."

"Oh, yeah? Then what else are you willing to give, Vegeta?" She said, getting in his face. "When the vibrators and the handcuffs and the blindfolds are done, what do you have left to give me? You already said there's no long-term relationship possible. So don't give me this crap about you getting messy and real."

He released her and staggered back a step in shock. She pressed her knuckles to her mouth. Had she challenged him to make this a real relationship? Was that what she really wanted? She had no time to analyze. A noise interrupted the shattering silence.

Panchy came out, carrying a bag with containers of food. "Oh good, you're both still here. Here, since you have busy schedules this week, I figured you guys wouldn't want the hassle of trying to cook anything for dinner."

Bulma pulled herself together, pasted on a bright smile, and took the bag from her hands. "Thanks mom. Let me grab the coats and my purse and we'll head out." Vegeta didn't speak, but followed her lead as they got their belongings and said good-bye. She hugged her mother tight, taking strength from the firm arms around her, and breathed in the comforting scent of home.

"Take care, dear." Panchy stroked her cheek, her gaze sweeping over her face as if trying to find out what troubled her.

"Love you, mom. And thanks again for the food."

With a slow, hesitant motion, he reached out and gave her a half hug, before stepping back. "Thank you for the meal, Mrs. Briefs. The food was delicious as always."

Bulma bit her lip as a tide of emotion overtook her.

Her mother smiled. "You are welcome. You come back next Sunday alright."

Bulma stumbled out the door and gave a quick wave to her mom before starting her car. Like the demons pitched fiery forks at her heels, she gripped the wheel, imagined her bike, and stamped on the accelerator. She refused to analyze the complete mess of the evening. Tomorrow she'd wake up stronger and ready to face the day. Bulma snapped the radio to a local station, cranked up the volume, and headed home.

* * *

BlueMoon Goddess: Well, well, I sure hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. And it looks like Vegeta isn't willing to give up what he has with Bulma. Though it did seem like Bulma was trying to hint at starting something deeper with him. Will it happen? Who knows? Well, next chapter will be up its normal two weeks, so look out for it. Until next time guys! ^_^


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ, its character's or the book "The Marriage Merger" by Jennifer Probst

Summary: Having been burned by relationships before, Bulma Briefs has stayed on her family's businesses, keeping work her main priority. That was until Vegeta Ouji, lured her out of her workaholic lifestyle with an irresistible offer. She shouldn't be trusting him, but his powerful onyx gaze has her rethinking the best use of a conference room, is the riskiest proposition.

* * *

Vegeta sat in the dark and tried to figure out what was wrong with him. The whole way home he pondered it. Something had changed tonight, and he wasn't sure what to do.

The moment Bulma had tried to push him away, he'd gone insane. Her cool demeanor had challenged him to prove their connection and caused a deep-seated panic he'd never experienced before. He only knew he wasn't ready to give her up. Not yet.

He figured she'd gotten spooked. Unfortunately, he hadn't helped matters much by acting all caveman, and she'd tossed out the relationship card. Did she want something more permanent between them? Was sex getting mixed up with real feelings? He had nothing to base it on. He'd never wanted a woman longer than a few nights. Never craved to go deeper than the physical needs of the evening. He enjoyed being in control and bestowing pleasure, but something was different with Bulma and he didn't know what to do.

He stared at the painting on the wall. A couple entwined on a bed. The man's foot snaked between her open legs, his bare back blocking the onlookers' full view. Shadow darkened the room and highlighted parts of her anatomy. The curve of hip, the stiff peak of her nipple, and the spill of dark hair over her shoulders. The woman's face filled with a naked longing as she stared at her lover, in its complete stripping down of complex emotions to only lust and need, Vegeta touched peace. He'd always loved erotic art. For a little while, when he stared at a good piece, he was transported to a place he could actually imagine and touch something real. Something he rarely felt in a good sense.

Watching Bulma in her home with her parents soothed his soul. His meals consisted of eating alone at formal restaurants, drive-thrus, or his desk. Sharing a meal forged an intimacy between them that fascinated him. But, of course, it could never work. If Bulma had any feelings for him other than sexual, he'd destroy and hurt her. She was a woman with character, strength, and purpose. She was loyal to her family and walked in the light. Deep down, he'd never be enough for her, and the longer they spent together, the more dangerous the outcome. Better to allow her the distance she desperately craved. She deserved a man who was whole and could give her the kind of life she deserved. Marriage, babies, and a full heart. Not someone who had nothing else to offer her other than good intentions and endless nights of sex.

No, he needed to end it now. Go back to the standard working relationship and be happy with memories.

His gut burned like acid.

Vegeta needed to get his mind off of this. Obviously, there'd be no sleep for him anytime soon. He opened his closet, changed into his workout clothes, preparing to get in a few rounds of intense workout sessions in the gym downstairs. His spirits lightened as he looked forward to a few hours of sweat, the blessed emptiness of mind and soul. He grabbed his duffel and headed out.

* * *

Bulma studied the tilt of the photo and wondered how it had gotten knocked askew. Her skin prickled as her usual OCD grabbed hold. Tights had sent it to her as a gift, and the image calmed her each time she looked up. She'd decided to put it in her office rather than her home since she spent most of her time here, especially with the subject matter.

Her father sat at his work station on his lab. Various gadgets and other miscellaneous things surrounding him. His hands clasped in front of him, dark eyes filled with a deep love as he looked towards the camera. Lavender hair carefully combed back from his forehead, his face a mass of lines from both weariness and pride.

Tights and was more of a mommy's girl, always wanting to around their mother. But not Bulma. She was definitely Daddy's girl, but it went deeper, a type of shared understanding between them that Capsule Corp was the backbone of the family's sweat, blood, and tears. The respect she had for him and the way he worked to make his dream a reality pushed her to consistently do better. For him. For her. For everyone.

She loved looking at the photo when she was thinking over a business decision or when the employees left for the day and she stayed behind alone. As if Tights knew Bulma needed someone to look after her. She wondered if Vegeta had ever had that experience in his life.

She had stayed up all night analyzing every detail of their last encounter like a lovesick teen. The way he demanded she deal with him and her emotions. The way he never crumbled or became intimidated by her cool words, choosing instead to look beyond and find the truth. Her head said to stay away, but her body and heart cried out for more.

While she tossed and turned and waited for dawn, an odd truth finally revealed itself. She took many chances in her work world but had never taken one leap in her personal life. Over and over she walked away from complications or the threat of unrest in her safe little bubble. She looked at saw most of her friends, and various people she knew happily married, starting families, and she was still alone.

Bulma drummed her nails against her desk and focused on her dad. What would he think of her if he knew? Would he be proud of her? Or would he shake his head in regret at her inability to take a leap? Though he'd frown on engaging in a sexual affair with no permanence, she knew she had to follow it through. Vegeta gave no guarantees, but he was truthful. For now, she wanted to throw caution away and engage in a heady, passionate affair that might lead to more. It was time she took a chance on a man who made her experience emotions she never believed possible. The next time she saw him, she'd be clear about her intentions.

With a satisfied smirk, she rose from the desk and kicked off her shoes. She'd go crazy if she had to look at the crooked angle one more moment. She dragged over the cream-colored chair and climbed up. She stretched out her fingers but only brushed the edge. Hmm, the furniture was heavy enough that if she stood on the top wooden arch of the chair she'd just be able to right the portrait. She yanked up her skirt a few inches for better reach. Propping one hand against the wall for balance, she stepped up, wobbled, and clutched the edge of the heavy gilded frame. One inch. Two. One more toward the right and—

"What are you doing?"

The familiar voice boomed through the room. Startled, she scrambled for footing, slipped, and fell back into nothingness. The automatic yell of fear died on her lips as strong arms broke her descent. The breath whooshed out of her as she slammed into a hard muscled chest. He staggered back one step, two, then righted himself. She looked up and fought the immediate urge to cover that sensual mouth with hers. Oh God, he was physically perfect. A face straight from heaven, with lips blessed by the demons.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" His brows drew together in a fierce frown, and eyes that shot sparks of anger. "Can't you ask for help with anything? Are you so much a control freak you'd rather break an ankle than let a man move a goddamn picture frame?"

Her gratitude died in her throat. Bulma found her footing and broke out of his embrace. Shoulders thrown back, she carefully slid on her heels and shot him a glare. "Why? Is it easier for a man to move a goddamn portrait even though he's the same height as me? Because I'm taller than most of my employees. I don't have a dick, though, so that must make a difference."

"Oh, for God's sake, I meant ask anyone! How about your secretary holding your legs so you at least have a spotter? Or does that compete with your 'I am woman, hear me roar' crap?"

She gazed back at him in icy stillness. "I was just straightening a picture frame, Vegeta. Not trying to prove a point for equality of the sexes. Maybe you should ask yourself why you're so pissed off you can't control my actions?"

He spit out a humorless laugh and shoved his fingers through his hair. Of course, that only gave him the tousled, right-out-of-bed look that curled her toes in her sensible pumps. "Do you always have a smart-ass answer?"

"I always have an answer, period. Why are you so upset?"

He muttered something under his breath. "I didn't sleep well last night."

She studied the faint lines under his eyes and the strain around his mouth. Her anger burned away, and she took a step closer. "I'm sorry, can I help with anything?"

She reached out to touch his arm, but he took a hasty step back. She stared at him. A cold ball of dread settled in the pit of her stomach at his inability to meet her gaze and the panic on his face. Obviously, he didn't want her to touch him. Which meant— "I thought about what you said last night." The words seemed forced from his lips, but she made herself stand still and listen. "I think you were right."

She refused to give him the satisfaction of letting him believe he meant something to her. She forced a smile.

"I'm so glad. I was afraid it would be strange between us, and this deal is more important than a roll in the sack."

His gaze lifted and pinned her. He looked deep, saw the lie, and accepted it anyway. He nodded. "Yes. Thank you for putting up with me. I promise not to make you uncomfortable again."

"Of course. Are we still meeting today at three?"

"Yes."

"Good. Thanks for coming to say this in person."

"You're welcome."

The excruciating politeness hurt more than knives raking blood. Desperate to get him out of the office before a fissure broke in her facade, she turned and grabbed a file from her desk. "I better get back to work. See you later."

She tore through pages where words blurred and heard the door open.

"I'll never forget those two nights together, Bulma. Your gift to me was priceless." He then left.

Bulma looked at the photo of her father, now perfectly straight, and suddenly knew why she never took risks in her personal life.

* * *

When Vegeta got the call, he originally planned to give them an excuse and say he couldn't make it. After all, he wasn't lying. His schedule was packed tighter than a woman's luggage. The last thing he needed with his sudden emotional upheaval was seeing them in the center of the storm. Hell, no. Unfortunately, this person was just as stubborn as his daughter, and he'd forced Vegeta's hand in the only way he'd never refuse. He'd simply told him he'd be waiting.

Vegeta grabbed for his patience while the man served him a cup of strong espresso, less than twenty-four hours after he'd walked out of his home. After many minutes of polite chatter, Dr. Briefs finally sat across from him, took a sip of his brew, and leveled his gaze.

"I want you to marry my daughter."

Vegeta looked around for the camera. Son of a bitch. He'd seen Punk'd on MTV, but hadn't it been canceled? Betty White's candid camera spoof was about old people. Or maybe this was a modern day version of Scare Tactics?

A grin curved Vegeta's lips. "Sorry, I know about these shows. You're not getting me."

A frown marred Dr. Briefs' brows. "What shows?"

Vegeta's grin faded. Come to think of it, why would anyone want to tape this anyway? "I'm sorry, I think I misunderstood. Did you say you want me to marry your daughter? Marry her where?"

"Mr. Ouji, don't play stupid with me. I want you to marry my daughter Bulma. The one you are sleeping with."

A strange squeak emitted from his lips. He'd heard the sound before, usually from weaker men who'd just realized they'd been outwitted and outplayed for food, shelter, or money. Odd, he'd never been driven to make the sound before now. Kind of pathetic. Reminded him of those mob movies like Goodfellas where the patsy rolled over and whined like a girl while he got the shit beat out of him.

What had he said?

"We're not sleeping together." Dr. Briefs' disappointed look at his lie made him throw his hands up in front of him. "We're not."

"You were the other night."

Jesus, this was so not happening. Time to man up and take control of the ridiculous conversation. "Okay, yes, we were. We did. But now we are not."

"Why did you stop?"

"This is really none of your business, Dr. Briefs." He kept his words firm as if speaking to an unruly child. "We were together and then decided it was best we continue our relationship in a strictly business format."

He spit into the air. "Bah, business. My daughter has been obsessed with her career since she was young. This was originally a good thing. It taught her goals, responsibility. She grew into a determined, independent woman we all admire. But she is losing her soul for the good of a profit."

Vegeta stood up. Whoa, this was not the time or place to dissect Bulma's life. Not with her father. Not with the strange feelings he had for his youngest daughter still bubbling up with nowhere to go. The hell with disrespect, Vegeta was getting out of here. "This is not my business. I'm sorry, but I have to go. I'm not sure what you're thinking, but—"

"Sit down, Vegeta."

He sat. Holy crap, it was like sitting across from his father whenever he got in trouble as a kid all over again.

Dr. Briefs closed his eyes, as if trying to draw strength from above. When he opened them, a sliver of pure fear trickled down Vegeta's spine. "I want you to listen to me. I am old, and I'm in the time of my life where I need to let go of my worries. Many things have been settled and bring me great joy. But there are two things that haunt me at night, keeping me from peace and from sleep, no matter how I try to surrender: my youngest daughter and my company."

His words came slow, deliberate. Vegeta sat back in his chair and gave Dr. Briefs his full attention.

"I built Capsule Corp on sweat, blood, family, and love. I need to know it will reign for a long time, solid, without causing Bulma to sacrifice everything to keep it going. She will not delegate. She is too proud. Just like me to believe anyone else can take care of our business. I need to make sure this merger between Blue Lilies and Black Pearl will be the key to her freedom. By signing such a contract, she is bestowing a piece of this legacy into your care. She is entrusting you to succeed, and she will have a long-term partner for support."

Vegeta shook his head in confusion. "Wait a moment. We already told you the contract is signed. There's no need for a permanent personal relationship between us. We are both loyal to our word and signed a business agreement. Our respective businesses will grow and expand together. You don't have to worry about this. I give my word I'll always look after Bulma and the restaurant as my own."

Dr. Briefs' mouth softened into a smile. "You are a good man Vegeta, though you still don't believe it." He sighed deeply. "I hope that will come with time. I believe you, Vegeta, but contracts are broken all the time, and when the ink dries, and time passes, distance supersedes it all. There is only one way I know of to guarantee Bulma and Blue Lilies will have a partner and supporter I can trust with my life. Marriage. The sacred vows of marriage pledge a bond never to be broken. This is what I need from you."

Vegeta needed to steer Dr. Briefs back on course. This was crazy talk. He decided the best way to blow up the plan was to play devil's advocate. "Dr. Briefs, I think you're missing some important elements in your idea. First, marriages today are more slippery than business contracts. People get divorced, leave the other, and have affairs. Marriage is not what it once was. The sacredness is truly gone."

Dr. Briefs tilted her head in thought. "Marriage is like everything else. It is what the person brings to it, whether it be a vow of celibacy, support, or profit. It is not the covenant that fails, but the people. Once you and Bulma make that decision, you will not back away from your responsibilities. This I know to be true."

His first full-force panic attack beat at the gates of his mind but he fought back. "Alright, fine. Let's talk about Bulma. We may have slept together, but we don't love each other. She has no interest in proclaiming forever with me, especially if she's forced into it. I assume you know your daughter's stubbornness?"

"I saw her with you. How she looked. How you made her feel. There are real feelings there, but they are caught up with logic and contracts and a bit of fear. She needs a man who can be a companion, who understands how her work feeds her soul, a man who doesn't want to change her but accepts every pore of her being."

"I'm not that man." The truth slammed through Vegeta. For a brief moment, he wondered what it would feel like to know he was the man who could give her all that. To hold her, keep her safe, finally let someone he trusted into his world. But it was only a mirage, not meant for people like him. Especially not with someone like Bulma.

"You are. You are her match, and I and Panchy knew when we saw you together. Two halves of a coin that have no idea how to merge. Once you accept this, you will both be whole."

Temper bit his nerves. Enough of this bizarre vision of mergers and arranged marriages. "I'm sorry, Dr. Briefs, you are mistaken. I am not the man you believe me to be. I don't have enough to give to a permanent partner. And if you truly love your daughter, you would never force her to do something like this. You'd be sentencing her to a lifetime of unhappiness. Let me ask you this. Would you pull this kind of thing on your other daughter? Force her into marriage like a puppet without giving her a choice? Threaten or blackmail them into doing what you wanted? Or is Bulma different, because she chose differently? Answer that honestly."

His victory was short-lived. He expected a shamefaced duck of the doctor's head. A defensive anger at Vegeta's wisdom. Instead, Dr. Briefs tilted his head back and cackled with pure glee. Vegeta stared at him in astonishment.

"Your point is well taken, but I can honestly tell you I am not treating Bulma any differently from Tights." His eyes sparkled with laughter. "Trust me on this."

Vegeta shook his head. "This is a moot point anyway. She'd never agree to this plan."

"She will, if you ask her."

He barked out a laugh. "Sure. And get my head ripped off in the process? No, thanks." He softened his tone. "I don't want you to worry about things. I promise Blue Lilies will never falter, and I will always remain in your daughter's life. Alright?" He got up to leave, satisfied he'd done all he could. Vegeta turned toward the door.

"Do you remember your promise to me when I helped you get your father's company back?"

The room shifted. Vegeta swayed for balance as the Dr. Briefs' words trapped him in a vicious vise that echoed the squeeze of a boa constrictor around his neck. He bowed his head as his fate stepped forward and sucker punched him in the jaw.

Years ago, when Ouji Enterprises was left without an owner from Frieza going to jail, other rival companies had tried getting their hands on it. And one did, Cell Divisions Enterprises. They had taken it before it was handed over to Vegeta and he thought the one thing he had left of his father's was gone, again, for good. However, it wasn't until he got a call from Dr. Briefs, who he met once, during an event with his father, that the man had did a hostile takeover of Ouji Enterprises right under Cell's nose. At first Vegeta wondered why the man was telling him this, but the shocker came when Dr. Briefs said he wanted to give the company back to its rightful heir and that was Vegeta. Vegeta of course was shocked that the President and CEO of Capsule Corp. would do something like that. So when he asked him why he would do something like this, Dr. Briefs had told him that his father was a well-respected man in his eyes, and he hated to see his legacy end in the wrong hands. So he felt it was best to acquire it and make sure it was back where it belonged, with a well-respected man like Vegeta.

Looking back on the memory, Vegeta did owe the old man a huge debt to pay. If it hadn't been for Dr. Briefs, he never would've acquired Ouji Enterprises, along with a nice amount of start-up money to help him rebuild the company, and he wouldn't have gotten the company to succeed so early on after taking it back.

He gritted his teeth together. "Yes…I remember."

"You told me, " _I owe you a great debt. If you ever need me, I will do whatever you ask_." I need you now Vegeta, and this is what I ask….I want you to marry Bulma."

Vegeta didn't remember much after that. The loud roaring in his ears, the pounding of his heart, the sweat dampening his palms. He refused to meet her gaze, knowing he couldn't trust himself with his emotions right now. Could he refuse?

Dr. Briefs had no idea what he truly asked of him. His acceptance of the doctor's request would set in motion a chain of events that scared the hell out of him.

Vegeta teetered on the edge, then realized there had never been a choice. His marker had officially been called in. He dragged in a shaky breath and accepted his fate. He might have to satisfy the debt, but he didn't have to be happy or gracious about it. Trying not to stumble, he made his way toward the door and clasped the handle in a death grip.

"So be it. But you better talk to her first, and God help you if she agrees." Vegeta lurched out the door without a backward glance.

* * *

BlueMoon Goddess: Dun, dun, DUUNNN! And here is where the matrimonial part comes in! I'm sure you guys didn't expect this now did ya? But yea, Bulma's parents knew pretty much that something was going on between their daughter and Vegeta. Also, I had Dr. Briefs be a bit more serious in this than him being somewhat laid back as he is in the anime. And I hope you guys liked the fact I added in the part about him helping Vegeta get his father's company back. I thought it would be cool to add that in, just to give Vegeta a bit more into his past and how well he and Dr. Briefs knew each other, besides Vegeta Sr. meeting him. Well next chapter will be up per usual, so until next time! ^_^


	10. Chapter 10

BlueMoon Goddess: I'm guys didn't expect that from the last chapter huh? And from the reviews you guys left, you all seemed shocked and surprised. But the shock will become greater once Vegeta tells Bulma once he tells her what her father expects of them. Anyway, I'm not going to hold you guys, so on with the chapter!

Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ, its character's or the book "The Marriage Merger" by Jennifer Probst

Summary: Having been burned by relationships before, Bulma Briefs has stayed on her family's businesses, keeping work her main priority. That was until Vegeta Ouji, lured her out of her workaholic lifestyle with an irresistible offer. She shouldn't be trusting him, but his powerful onyx gaze has her rethinking the best use of a conference room, is the riskiest proposition.

* * *

Bulma sat in the St. Patrick's Cathedral located on Fifth Avenue between E50 and E51. A heavy fog shrouded the cathedral's soaring, and elegant lines, as she stared at the gorgeous structure that had been a mainstay since her childhood and teenage years. She had loved sitting inside the cathedral, gazing at the rays of colored light as they filtered through the Gothic windows. The sense of peace and tranquility amidst great works of art and the mythical search for spiritual perfection. Afterward, her father would take her to the square at lunchtime, where they would feast on sandwiches and iced tea, washing the meal down with pancetta and ripened grapes from the market. She'd watch the women, fashionably dressed in designer suits and heels, come and go, and wish to transform into one of them someday. Well, she had. At least on the outside. Her designer pantsuit bespoke a confident, stylish executive on her lunch break. Her green Prada handbag and Manolo shoes screamed refined elegance. Though she'd never left New York to travel like Tights, she always felt safe at home. Never empty from not seeing other places. Never strangled…until now.

She was going to marry Vegeta Ouji.

Humiliation burned in her blood. Her own parents, mainly her father, wished to marry her off so she wouldn't become a cold, lonely spinster counting her gold coins. Their discussion had turned from amusing, to concerning, to enraging. She had shouted horrible things while they remained calm. Like an implacable statue, her father repeated the same thing over and over.

" _You deserve happiness, Bulma, and if you won't do it your way, I'll do it mine. Vegeta Ouji will give you what you need, though you don't believe it now."_

No, she didn't believe it, would never believe it. Somehow, Vegeta owed her dad a great debt, and he'd marry her to satisfy it. Obviously, her dad didn't trust her to run the business successfully alone, so he'd decided to add an extra layer of protection in the symbol of a big, strong man. Oh, how Bulma hated both of them with a passion right now. Her father for her betrayal, and Vegeta for his agreement.

A shadow fell upon her. Vegeta sat beside her on the bench, keeping a polite distance between them. They sat together for a long time in silence while pedestrians hurried past them, tilting their heads up toward the sky to try and gauge the magnificence of the grand church with its intricate architecture and soaring grace. A large flock of pigeons descended from the sky and clogged the sidewalks, their wings bright blue and heads bobbing furiously for leftover crumbs.

Bulma watched in silence as a younger couple holding hands laughed at the bird invasion. The woman was pretty, with brilliant red hair. She knelt down and put her hands out, and a bunch of the winged creatures hurried over and hopped onto her body. Her laugh was bright and tinkled through the early hot weather. The man laughed with her, knelt down beside her, and kissed her. The picture burned into her lids and reminded her of the things she'd never have.

Bulma finally spoke. "Do you owe my father that much?" She whispered. "Enough to give up your life for a sham of a marriage?"

"Yes."

She nodded, already anticipating his answer. A yawning emptiness and grief roared up and pumped through her veins, looking for some type of outlet. She squashed it like an ant under the heel of her stiletto. Never again. She wouldn't let herself go back to that place of feeling, surrender. Not with him.

"I said no, of course. Walked away and swore I'd never return. I called him names, raged at him. He just took it and said he believed this was for the best." A crazy laugh escaped her lips. "You know the worst part of this charade? He believes he's right. He's not doing it to hurt us, or make us suffer. What's that saying about good intentions again?"

"The road to hell is paved with good intentions."

"Exactly. Give the man a gold star, oh, and a wife! Cha-ching!" She clamped down on the mania and struggled for composure. No reason to get crazy over a simple matrimonial hook-up, because that was what it would be. She'd give her dad what he wanted, but in her own damn way. "Forgive me, I'm still adjusting. Even though this is a new era, I didn't know arranged marriages occurred anymore."

"I understand."

His voice was gentle, and she had a crazy impulse to grab his hand and beg him to make it all okay. Take her in his arms and say they'd work it out and ease the terrible tightness in her chest. But she did what came naturally. Sat quiet and stiff in her own cold bubble and did nothing. "It took me three days to realize he won. That everything I was so proud of becoming meant nothing because I'd still obey him like a child."

"What changed your mind?"

That part was the worst. Bulma didn't like to disappoint her dad, but there was no way she'd bend to a loveless marriage. Until her dad said the words that singed her ears and crippled her resolve.

" _Before I die, I want two things from you Bulma: to make sure you continue my legacy and make Capsule Corp thrive, and for you to marry. I love you and Tights equally, but you are special to me. Tights might not be married yet, but I know that based on her life she will eventually. You are the one I'm more concerned with. You work too hard and find no time to find love and happiness of your own. I don't think I will be at ease until you give this to me Bulma."_

She tried to ignore the words her father spoke, but they haunted her day and night, until she finally realized she had no other choice. Just like Vegeta.

She spoke with no emotion. "My dad said he wanted this for me. For Capsule Corp...and I'm afraid he's right."

Vegeta made a move, almost to comfort, but she stiffened and he pulled back. She couldn't have this awful conversation with any type of warmth or she'd never recover.

"How do you want to proceed?" He asked quietly.

This she could handle. "I'd prefer to say we eloped. As soon as our paperwork arrives, a priest can marry us with just my parents in attendance. I'll tell others it was a whirlwind affair, and we wanted little fanfare and attention. We can cite the merger and our workload to escape a honeymoon. We'll send out a brief press release, tell our respective companies in a meeting, and hopefully the fervor and gossip will die down quickly. Is that acceptable to you?"

Vegeta nodded.

The young couple before her rose to their feet, interlocked arms, and walked out of the square. She watched them leave and wondered if they would always be that happy. She shook off the thought and got back to business.

"Good. Now, as for residence, I propose we get a big place immediately. I'll rent out my apartment for now. I'd prefer it be somewhere close to the office, if that's okay, and we'll split the cost equally. We'll need plenty of space so we can lead our separate lives without bothering the other. I'll put my realtor on the hunt immediately. Agreed?"

Another slight nod.

"We'll need a prenup. Would you like to use my lawyer or yours?"

"Doesn't matter."

A family took the place of the couple and crowded in front of the bench. Two small boys ran around, laughing in delight as they chased pigeons, while the parents shook their heads and tried to rein them in. Bulma watched the man grin broadly, point up to the cathedral, and pull his wife in close. She leaned in with a naturalness that spoke of years together.

Bulma continued. "We'll need to set the terms, of course. My dad never needs to know our intention to end it after a certain allotment of time. If it's acceptable to you, I'd like to use two years as our frame. I'm afraid one year won't satisfy his wishes, but two is a fair enough deal to say we both tried. Unless you disagree?"

He didn't look at her. Just stared at the young family as if they were the key to unlock the answers he needed. "Two years is fine."

"Good. I refuse to let this thing throw off our time schedule and delay opening. You have my word I'll hire help and get this transition done as smoothly as possible."

He lifted his head as if awakening from a fairy-tale sleep. "What about us?"

She blinked. "Us?"

"Yeah, us. What's the rules for that? Same bedroom? Separate? Do we share work during the day and distance ourselves at home? Are we companions who share meals and conversation? Have you planned that out yet?"

Her back went ramrod straight. His gaze probed hers, as if he were looking for some type of emotion she refused to show him. What did he want from her? She snapped out her words with deliberate precision. "Why don't we take care of all the necessary details before we subject ourselves to a heart-to-heart? Once we marry, we'll sit down and go over what each of us is comfortable with. I'm sure we can agree to a mutually beneficial compromise."

He laughed with no humor. "Spoken like a woman in complete control of the situation. Must be nice."

Her defenses split, ripped, and bled. "What do you want from me? An apology?" Her voice broke, but she pushed on. "I'm sorry. Sorry a debt owed to my dad will stick you with a charity case for two years. Sorry I wasn't enough for my family, for me, for anyone, especially you." Her eyes burned with unshed tears. "I'm doing the best I can to make this palatable for both of us."

The shell of the civil, distant man beside her shattered.

He reached out, grabbed her upper arms and pulled her against his chest. "You offer me an apology?" He tore out, onyx eyes spitting sparks of fiery rage as he shook her slightly. "Goddamn you to hell. You think I'm upset because I'm stuck with you? How dare you call yourself a charity case to the man who kissed you, stripped you and fucked you for so many hours we both fell into exhaustion? You deserve a man to be whole, a man who can offer you a decent life and not tear you apart piece by piece. I'll never be able to give you what you need. Don't you understand I'm frozen inside? There's nothing left to give you except physical pleasure."

His lips twisted in a sneer, and his fingers bit through her arms, almost threatening to leave marks on her arms. "But I'm not as polite or charitable as you, I guess. I don't intend to be a martyr and give you a safe little space with his-and-her bedrooms and an occasional smile as we pass in the hallway."

The angel morphed into the devil. Lust and rage and something completely untamable gleamed in the depths of his eyes. "Not me. I'll rip down your door when I've had enough and take both of us to hell. And I won't have a shred of regret."

She parted her lips, entranced by the powerful aura beating from him in waves. His body heat battled the wind and made her burn to let him take her as many times and in as many ways as he fantasized.

His gaze focused on her mouth. Her heart thundered. She waited for him to lower his head and claim what was already his. Instead, he eased his grip and pulled back.

A bleak desolation carved the lines of his face. "But I don't want to hurt you. So I'll allow you your barriers and your own bedroom and anything else you need from me. I have only one rule. You will never talk about yourself as a charity case or someone unworthy. Not in my presence."

A stray lock of hair broke loose and lay against his forehead. Without hesitation, she reached out and brushed it away, then ran her hand down his cheek. She caught his scent of musk and spice and lemon on the wind. "Okay." She whispered. "I won't mention it."

Like a sinner seeking penance, Vegeta bent his head and pressed a kiss to her open palm. Bulma sensed something deeper in his actions and craved to follow the path leading to a thicket of thorns, poison ivy, and endless predators poised to tear flesh. When his gaze finally pierced hers, she knew this man would be the one to either complete her or destroy her. She trembled in pure terror.

He traced the sensitive line of her jaw, her chin, and slowly down her neck. His light touch caused shivers of sensation to prick her skin and tighten her nipples. Bulma ached to take the leap and damn the consequences.

He took the choice away from her and stood up. "I'll begin immediately on the paperwork. Let me know when the realtor comes up with something appropriate. Call if you need anything."

He left. She watched him walk across the square and disappear behind the building. Then she sat on the bench for a long time, and wondered what she was going to do.

* * *

BlueMoon Goddess: Well Bulma had accepted into marrying Vegeta, with no fuss whatsoever. Well somewhat. Of course she had problems but at least she's doing it by her terms. You guys also, got a little bit of Vegeta and Bulma fluff, somewhat. It might even seem that deep down these two wouldn't mind the arrangement between them. So for the short chapter, I'll have the next one up soon. Well, like always, until next time guys! ^_^


	11. Chapter 11

BlueMoon Goddess: Well I did promise you guys the next chapter would be up soon and here it is.

Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ, its character's or the book "The Marriage Merger" by Jennifer Probst

Summary: Having been burned by relationships before, Bulma Briefs has stayed on her family's businesses, keeping work her main priority. That was until Vegeta Ouji, lured her out of her workaholic lifestyle with an irresistible offer. She shouldn't be trusting him, but his powerful onyx gaze has her rethinking the best use of a conference room, is the riskiest proposition.

* * *

Bulma gazed down at the diamond on her finger. Three carats, princess cut, flawless in clarity. The setting was platinum gold with no other diamonds fighting to compete. Her husband knew her taste well, simplicity and elegance. Too bad he wasn't real.

The ceremony was exactly what she'd wanted. Thank goodness Tights was sponsoring an event. She didn't want her sister or close friends to witness the sham occurring before a Catholic priest. She'd always dreamed of getting married in Riverside Church with its grand architecture and calming atmosphere for a Church. The intricate detail and intimacy of the grand church in New York provided the perfect back-drop. Her elegant Rivini wedding dress was exquisite with detail, from the tightly fitted strapless bodice to the spill of chiffon of the fuller skirt, fluid with movement in a deep creamy white color. The diamond combs held her hair up in a classic upsweep and flashed bright within her aqua locks. Her shoes were custom-made, with encrusted diamonds over the four-inch heel and toe, playing a game of hide-and-go-peek as she walked down the aisle.

When she moved to the high altar, her parents stood by their sides as light streamed through the stained-glass window and Bulma waited to see if God would send down a thunderbolt in a sign that this marriage was doomed. Instead, the day was mild and spring warm, and the singer lent a haunting note of beauty as she sang, her voice along with the organ's chords lifting and echoing toward the arched dome ceiling and stirring emotion she refused to recognize. Her father beamed with pride and a satisfaction that ripped at her heart. When she recited her vows, she wondered if he was finally pleased.

Unlike Tights, she'd rarely dreamed about weddings and had never imagined walking down the aisle with anyone.

When she gazed into those shattering onyx eyes, her heart lurched in a beautiful agony of need. The truth whispered deep inside her in mocking tones.

She wanted it to be real.

What would it feel like to be the woman Vegeta loved? The one who opened up all those dark, dusty corners of his soul and let fresh, clean air blow through? He'd possess his mate with a fierceness and primitive air that no man could equal. But there was also a sweetness in his soul that called out to her. She remembered him bathing her so tenderly, the gentle touch of his finger across her cheek, the passionate way he'd ordered her never to demean herself.

"Bulma? Are you okay?"

She shook herself out of her musings and looked up.

The object of her thoughts stood in the doorway of the room she claimed as her office. After dinner, they'd headed to their new house, and both of them had immersed themselves in work, retreating to their separate space. The quiet, impersonal environment mocked the idea that a wedding had taken place just hours ago. It was business as usual, with iPads and laptops and furious text messages to business associates. The house roared up and seemed to demand more personal contact from its inhabitants. "Sure, just wrapping up some loose ends."

Vegeta stretched and rubbed the back of his neck. He'd changed into a pair of loose khaki slacks and a clean white T-shirt, and he sported bare feet. The intimacy of sharing a house suddenly loomed before her. Seeing him in all forms of undress, but not feeling she had the right to touch him.

Panic lit. What if she couldn't play this charade? It was their honeymoon night, and she had no idea how to act. Cool and sophisticated? Warm and friendly? She ached to crawl under the covers and hide for the night, but wouldn't that look pathetic at this point? He spoke with no idea regarding her looming attack. "Yeah, me, too. I have to get up early to go to the site tomorrow. Are you finished up?"

"Yes."

"Wanna join me for a quick drink before bed?"

Her nerves shrieked and her body jumped to come out and play. She deliberately squeezed her thighs together in rebellion. "Sure. Wouldn't mind a taste of cognac before sleep. I've got an early morning, too."

She followed him down the winding staircase, her fingers lightly tracing the smooth mahogany as they walked into the library. Bulma took a soothing breath of lemon, paper, and leather. Between both of them, they'd filled up the mounted bookcases with a variety of fiction, biography, business, and cooking. She'd been fascinated by his eclectic reading taste and found he could hold a conversation on practically any topic. She took a seat close to the fireplace and tucked her feet underneath her. It was important they set a precedent for the future. She decided she'd be friendly, but distant.

He handed her the snifter of amber liquid and sat beside her. The warmth of the fire enveloped them in a comfortable haze, and she relaxed a bit. "You looked beautiful today." He said.

Bulma smiled. "Thank you. You didn't look too bad yourself."

Vegeta laughed and sipped his drink. "Glad to know I can clean up nice. To be honest, your father talked to me right before the wedding. He told me to make sure I take good care of you and that he was proud to know he had a man he was proud of to call his son."

She swallowed past the tightness in her throat. "I saw the way you looked at him. Respect. Admiration. Care. You may have met through business, but your family now. That's how it is. They drive you crazy, push you to the edge, but family stands true."

"True. That's how it was with my own family."

"I know, but family isn't about blood. It's about sticking and loyalty and sacrifice."

"And that's why you agreed to marry me, right?"

Bulma stiffened, afraid he might guess too much of the truth. Yes, she'd done it for family. For her dad. For business, but the secret part inside told her she'd only marry someone she cared about, felt safe with. Vegeta was both. "Yes, that's right."

"Did you ever think of marrying before?"

His probing surprised her, but she decided to answer.

"No. There was one man I got close to. We worked together. For a little while, I wondered what it would be like to come home to him at night. Share meals, a bed, a life, but I started to realize things were flat between us. We made a good connection on paper, but he never sought time with me. I was like his conferences, scheduled in." She remembered that feeling of inadequacy as she craved to forge more of a connection before realizing he wasn't interested. He'd been calm and rational in what he wanted—a wife for business, a companion for company. Her frigidity annoyed him, but he never took time to push for more of a reaction from her, which only caused more friction and numbness every time he took her in his arms. Eventually, the relationship withered and died without a speck of smoke or flame.

"Sounds like a real dickhead."

A faint smile passed her lips, but the ghosts had been unleashed. The words popped out of her mouth. "No, he just didn't want me enough. No man ever has."

The sudden focus of his attention shifted. Those hot eyes roved over her body, reminding her of all the places he'd touched and licked and bitten, and the hundreds of ways he'd made her explode beneath him. "I repeat, he was a dickhead and a moron."

Humiliated at her confession, she laughed it off and straightened in her chair. "I agree. I rarely give him a second thought, so it was for the best." Her lie lay between them like a big fat elephant in true cliché form. "How about you? Any desire before to walk down the aisle?"

"No."

His flat admission made her cock her head. "I know you've been with many women. You seem to like companionship. What was missing?"

Darkness danced over his face. "Nothing…everything. I'm able to have fun and have a sexual affair, but they always demanded more. Things I couldn't give. So I kept moving on."

"And now? What will you do now?"

Her challenge seemed to startle him. "I don't think I've ever met another woman as direct as you."

"I'm not sure that's a compliment."

He gave a short laugh. "It is. You're able to consistently surprise and challenge me. Is it time for our heart-to-heart?"

Her temper simmered again and she narrowed her eyes. "I don't enjoy being mocked. Why don't we do what's best for us? Work together. Share space. Respect. We'll keep those more base emotions out of the equation so neither of us loses focus. Agreed?"

He studied her mercilessly, but she refused to yield.

Bulma remained still under his scrutiny. Her mind screamed for him to take the compromise. Her gut screamed for him to ignore her polite request and drag her to bed. Finally, he nodded. "As you wish."

The air turned flat and stale. Her energy drained out like a broken pipe, and she quickly finished her cognac.

"I'm glad we agree. It's for the best. If you don't mind, I'm going to bed." She set her snifter on the table and forced a smile. "Good night, Vegeta."

"Good night, Bulma."

She left the room and headed toward bed, half relieved and half heartbroken.

Vegeta refilled his glass as the door shut behind him. He still smelled her unique scent of mocha and coconut that made his mouth salivate for a candy bar. But she was much tastier, the memory of her thighs spread wide and her gorgeous honey flowing free over his lips.

Jesus, he was going to lose it.

His dick strained in a desperate effort to break free of his pants. Was she trying to drive him insane? She wanted a companion. Work partner. Friend. How could he concentrate on those aspects when he ached to strip away her polite veneer and uncover the wild, sensual woman he'd discovered in his bed? And how long would he hold out?

He imagined himself exploding during a calm dinner and ripping off her clothes in a frenzy. But would she like that? Her words haunted him. No man had ever wanted her enough. His very tough, capable woman had her own demons. He bet the few men she'd tried to forge relationships with had wrecked her self-confidence. How else could a sexy, smart, independent woman think she wasn't good enough for marriage?

Maybe he needed to show her.

The possibility danced along the edges of his mind. He could accept her terms and they'd move forward with no messiness. Probably the best course. But the look on her face when he agreed told him a very different truth.

No man had ever been strong enough to challenge her. Push her. Seduce her. Her body melted under his instruction and her mind cracked open to allow secret entry that both humbled and inspired him. He craved her like a drug injected in his veins, and though it was unpredictable and chaotic and unplanned, he needed her. Allowing her to sleep in her cold bed tonight would only let her build back her defenses. The right thing to do would be to leave her alone. He didn't do love. She was a woman who deserved it. But what was worse? Keeping her safe but believing she wasn't enough for a man to fight for? Or dragging her into his bed and risking heartbreak?

His brain told him clearly the only decision he could make. The path he followed since he gained Ouji Enterprises and spent years building it back up again. But tonight all the thinking power had gone to his dick, and there was only one decision he'd be making tonight.

Vegeta set down his drink and went to claim his wife.

* * *

Bulma twisted in the pale blue sheets, kicking out one leg in an effort to cool down. For such an old house, the radiators pumped heat in massive gulps, and sweat clung to her neck and upper back. With a groan, she threw back all the covers and stared at the ceiling. Her body throbbed with a desire that wouldn't be quenched tonight. Too bad she didn't own a vibrator. Of course, she'd always been too embarrassed to try it before, afraid even a gadget wouldn't push past her icy core toward orgasm. Amazing how Vegeta seemed to sense whenever she was pulled out of her body. He yanked her right back to the moment and refused to let her mind take over.

"Stop thinking about him." She mumbled to herself. "Sleep. Focus on sleep." She closed her eyes and started counting mentally.

One. Two. Three. Had she approved the finance report for the quarter? Yes, she'd sent it. Four. Five. Six. Was it her secretary's birthday this week? She needed to buy a present tomorrow. Seven. Eight. Nine— The door opened.

She sat up. Stared at the figure before her. He'd taken off his shirt, so the moonlight played over the naked skin of his chest. The cut muscles of his abs and biceps shimmered against the light. He stood with bare feet apart, hands on hips, gaze narrowed in quiet power. In that moment, the blood roared in her veins in a pure adrenaline rush. She swayed slightly, trying to breathe through the crazy hammering of her heart. "What are you doing in here?"

"I think you know."

His voice oozed like salted caramel. Smooth and rough and sexy as hell. She tried to answer but only squeaked some type of pathetic sound. He moved slowly, each graceful motion a deliberate action to pump up the sensual tension whipping through the room. She sat frozen amidst the sheets like a terrified doe about to be swallowed whole.

She murmured the only word with the power to stop the roller coaster of emotion she was terrified to ride on. "No."

He stopped beside her bed. His aura pumped out a raw, male scent that caused a low moan to rip from her throat.

Vegeta reached out and grasped her wrist. Pulled her from the mattress so she stood. Her pale pink nightgown clearly showed the thrust of her naked nipples, the shadow of her body beneath the delicate fabric. In her bare feet, he towered over her with a domineering manner that screamed he was in charge. Of everything.

"You're my wife. It's our wedding night. I heard your proper speech and agree that keeping sex out of the equation would be the smart thing for each of us." He paused, lifting his palm to caress her cheek, stroke back the tangled wave of hair from her shoulder. "But I can't. I won't. You belong to me."

"I don't belong to anyone."

He chuckled at her shaken words and continued stroking her face, hair, throat, shoulders like he was soothing a pissed-off cat he only wanted to pet. "Jesus, you're magnificent. You never give up, and you're not afraid of anything but this. Of what you feel like once I touch you, command you, direct you to give me every part of that delectable body." Her skin warmed and softened underneath his touch, her nipples painfully hard against the soft cotton barrier.

"I'm not spending night after night with an erection that won't go down and a need in my soul to have you. You do belong to me, Bulma. Your body is mine for the taking, and I'm taking it tonight."

His mouth claimed hers. She waited for brutality and raw invasion. Instead, she got softness, heat, and a man intent on winning. She lifted her arms, poised to push him away and fight. His tongue sank deep between her lips, inviting her to play, tempting her to leave safety behind and plunge into all the dark delights he was going to show her. She grabbed onto his shoulders and surrendered. His satisfied moan pushed the heat higher. Their tongues tangled together, and his taste swamped her, the delicious burn of alcohol and spice and a hint of mint toothpaste. He gripped her head and dived in, over and over, taking her mouth like he intended to thrust between her legs with all the glorious power that left no room for thought or decisions or approval.

Still holding tight, he guided her against the far wall and pushed her against it, never breaking contact. Her hands greedily ran over the lines of his chest, the roped muscles of his shoulders and arms. He ripped his mouth away from her, stepped back half an inch, and gave her a wolfish grin.

He grabbed the delicate collar of her nightgown in the center and ripped it straight down the middle. Wetness ran down her thighs at the raw violence of the motion. He stared greedily at her naked body, and her clit pounded in demand. He touched a hard nipple, ran a thumb under the curve of her breasts, and continued down her quivering stomach. "You didn't wear panties to bed. Why?"

His question demanded the truth. Her voice ripped from her throat. "Because it was too much. I was thinking of you, and I was too—"

"Aroused?"

She jerked her head. Lust gleamed from onyx eyes as he kissed her again, pulling her tight against his chest, devouring her piece by piece. He unbuttoned his pants and stripped quickly, then slowly turned her around. She fought to keep skin-to-skin contact, but he nipped at her neck in punishment and forced her hips to swivel.

"Hands on the wall Bulma…and don't let go."

A shudder wracked through her. She placed her palms flat on the wall. He spread her legs wide so cool air rushed between and teased the swollen flesh. "I wish I could paint you like this." He said reverently, tracing the line of her spine, the curve of her buttocks. "You're everything beautiful and perfect and feminine in a woman. Graceful, muscular, with gentle curves and flawless skin that reminds me of a goddess." He placed kisses down her back and nibbled on her nape, pushing her hair back over her shoulder. "I want to brand you so every inch of your body responds only to me. Your taste haunts me. I watch you conducting a proper business conversation and dream of lifting your skirt and burying my mouth in your pussy."

"Vegeta—" She turned in desperation but a quick smack on her bottom stole her breath.

"Hands on the wall. You're not allowed to have an orgasm until I'm inside you. If you do, there will be consequences." He nipped at her shoulder. "And I'm going to do everything in my power so that you disobey me. That way I'll be able to punish you."

His outrageous words stripped her sanity and turned her into a creature of animalistic need. She squirmed and rested her forehead against the cool plaster, desperate for more. His low chuckle told her he knew every dark, dirty thought in her mind and intended to fulfill them all. His hands cupped her breasts and he played with her nipples, tugging, twisting, until they swelled and were so sensitive that pleasure leaked into the fine edge of pain. His tongue traced down the line of her spine and settled above the swell of her buttocks, then lower, spreading her cheeks and slipping his tongue to her dripping slit to pleasure her.

The slide of his tongue over her swollen clit, the nibble of his teeth, the strength of his hands as he held her open to everything he chose to do with her, all of it came crashing down into a raging climax that overtook her body and tossed her like a grain of sand in a tidal wave. She screamed, her hands clenching together as she bucked against him wildly, her body convulsing in pleasurable shocks. He helped her ride it out for a long time. Finally, her muscles quivered and relaxed. He supported her weight and held her against the wall, his erection pushing between her legs in pulsing demand.

"God, you're sexy. You're—everything." The soft words wrung another shudder. He lifted her and brought her to the bed. "But you still disobeyed my orders."

"I kept my hands on the wall."

He laughed. "True. I'll punish you only fifty percent for coming before I approved. On your knees."

She muttered a curse under her breath but got onto all fours on the bed. "Why do you get to make all the rules?"

"Because I said so. And it's more pleasant for you when you obey. Has anyone ever spanked you before?"

Her head rolled around to glare. "What do you think?"

His lip quirked in amusement at her sarcasm. "I think no. You get ten whacks by my hand."

"I'm not a child. That's humiliating. And if you continue, I'll make sure you lose that hand."

"Oh, I like games, and I'm the master. How about me torturing you for hours without letting you orgasm?" She opened her mouth to say something smart, then snapped it shut. The idea of it tantalized her, but she was deathly afraid he was telling the truth. "Hmm, smart response. Though I may have to try that in the future. You looked way too intrigued to see if I could accomplish the feat. For now, you get the spanking."

"What could this possibly do for you or me? I've never heard of such a thing."

"I guess you'll have to tell me. One."

His flat palm hit her right cheek. A quick sting made her suck in her breath. Her ass was probably as red as her face, completely embarrassed at her position and vulnerability. Three more quick hits on the right, then he moved to the left. Bulma locked herself in position before each swat, cursing him, wondering why the heck he'd get aroused over such a ridiculous game.

Until she realized her body was dripping wet. Sensitized and ready to go over the edge with one touch.

As if he knew, Vegeta paused halfway through to rub her heated skin. The massage only revved up her crazed response. She squeezed her eyes shut at the realization the whole thing was turning her on horribly. He continued on the left cheek for three more. Each time, instead of suffering through it, she arched against him without thought, craving more of the delicious prickly warmth that oozed through her bloodstream and sensitized every nerve ending. She held her breath for the last two.

"Widen your legs."

She pushed her thighs apart one inch. Two. Waited for the pain in horrible anticipation. His fingers settled on her buttocks, rubbed, then slipped between her thighs.

"Oh God!" Her pearl pounded for release and her nipples stabbed open air in a terrible need to have his mouth and tongue and teeth. Just as she was about to orgasm, he slid his fingers out and swatted her backside with two strong strokes. Her arms trembled, unable to take her weight. Her arousal rose to her own nostrils, and a low animal moan escaped her lips and echoed in the air.

His control must have snapped. With an answering groan, she heard the rip of a wrapper, and suddenly he mounted her. Grasping her hips, he slid into her in one hard thrust, filling every inch of her body and claiming her completely.

Bulma surrendered. Body, mind, and soul. With long, full strokes, he brought her straight to the edge and held her there mercilessly, guiding the rhythm and not allowing her to do anything but hang on and give him what he wanted. Her channel milked him, and he tortured her for what seemed like forever until she begged.

"Please, oh, please."

He paused. Held himself deep inside of her, not moving, as her body spasmed around his penis. "You belong to me. Say it."

"I belong to you. Now take me Vegeta."

He reached around, gently squeezed her delectable pearl, and plunged. The orgasm hit hard. His dim shout told her he followed her over. She sobbed in relief and let go, giving him everything he asked for and more.

"I think I'm dead."

He kissed her cheek and pulled her closer. She burrowed under the sheets, and her silky warmth pressed against him. The scent of sex filled the air. Moonlight leaked through the window and cast shadows over the bed. "Then I've done my job for the night." He caressed her bare arm, enjoying the feel of her skin. He didn't think he'd ever get enough of her.

"Will you kill me every night?"

"Yes. I hope that's okay with you, or we'll have to play out this caveman scene on a daily basis." Vegeta held his breath and waited for her answer. Somehow, some way, this woman had crawled under his skin and buried herself there. He needed this from her, needed the connection of sex, and then he was sure the tension would finally relax between them. After all, they were married.

"No. I don't want to fight you anymore. Fight this."

"Good." They lay in relaxed silence for long minutes.

"Vegeta?"

"Yeah?"

Her tone was wary. Unsure. "I know you said you never talk about your past. I understand. But I feel as if you know so much about me. It feels unbalanced. And I feel—"

"What?"

"Vulnerable." She whispered. "I need something of your choice." She paused. "Please."

The memories swamped him, but her confession touched a tender part in his soul. She was so honest about her needs, even though she opened herself up to his ridicule, and Bulma was right. He hadn't given anything of himself other than his body. He reached down and sought what he could sacrifice. The words flowed out without hesitation, as if always waiting on the surface for the right person, the right time, to escape.

"Growing up I had a pretty good childhood. I used to get into fights when I was little, while my mother cleaned me up my father would always ask the same question every time if I won or not. A few times I would, but other times I wouldn't. But no matter the outcome, my father would always feel a sense of proudness for standing up for myself and helping my brother, since some of them involved him. However, when I was thirteen my mother died. She was fighting leukemia and eventually lost in the end. After her death my father would spend hours and hours in the office and away on business trips, leaving me to basically take care Tarble. All we had was each other."

She didn't say anything when he stopped. Instead, she gave his arm a gentle squeeze, encouraging him to continue.

"On my seventeenth birthday, I was out with some friends and didn't get in until late. However, when I came back I was welcomed by the sight of my father and younger brother, lying in a pool of their own blood in the living room. Murdered in cold blood. I was in shock seeing them there and even got a glimpse of the murders leaving the place."

"Who murdered them?" Bulma asked quietly.

"Frieza Korudo."

Bulma heard of him. He was the man who ran Icejin Corp. She heard he was a ruthless business tycoon who did whatever it took to get ahead in life. Even if it meant crushing the lives of others.

"The media had heard that my father was dead, and they just proclaimed he died of a heart attack. However, his murder was sealed away from others because of Frieza's connections to the police, so no one else really ones what happened. Since I was still a minor, my father's company was able to fall into Frieza's hands and was able to completely turn it around. After all the hard work my father put into his company, Frieza was able to destroy it and lose the credibility that my father had accomplished. Luckily in two years, he was sent to prison and sentenced to life without parole and my father's company was free from his clutches."

"Then you were able to get it back. It was said in the media that when you turned twenty-three you gained control of it."

"The media was wrong about that. I was nineteen at the time when Ouji Enterprises was left without an owner since Frieza was in prison. However, when I tried to get it back it seemed that someone else did. Another rival company, Cell Divisions Enterprises had gotten their hands on it, and once again I thought my father's company was gone. However, it wasn't until I got a call from your father telling me that he acquired Ouji Enterprises right under Cell's nose and he wanted to give it back to me. After that I knew I owed your father a great deal of debt and that is one of the reasons why I agreed to this marriage."

Bulma's focus was almost physical, as if poised on his every word and drinking it in deep. Instead of avid curiosity, he felt only a deep peace and understanding from her, making it easier to go on. "Because of your father I was able to gain Ouji Enterprises, my father's hard work, the last thing I have of him. It took me years to bring it back to its glory after what Frieza did and I was able to gain the integrity it needed to be before my father died. Once Black Pearl is complete, I'll dedicate it to my father, Tarble and your father, because if it wasn't for my father, I wouldn't be the man I am today. And because of your father, I wouldn't have my company today."

He let out a breath and waited. For the questions. The probing. He didn't blame her and knew how women needed to push until it was painful and there was nothing else to give. He waited until finally, she moved.

Bulma lifted her head. Clear blue eyes gleamed brightly, but no tears showed. She lowered herself over him and kissed him. Thoroughly. Gently. As if he was precious glass and deserved all the care and love in the world.

"Thank you." She whispered. She rested her head against his chest, intertwined her thigh with his, and gave a long sigh. Then drifted off to sleep.

He waited for the pain to flood his conscience, instead, there was nothing, a void where the rawness had once hidden. A curious wave of relief whooshed through his body, and he suddenly imagined himself lighter and more at peace.

* * *

BlueMoon Goddess: So Vegeta finally opened up about his past fully to Bulma! And I'm sure you all liked the lemon that was added as well. Did you honestly think Vegeta would let Bulma get away without them having a proper wedding night? Also, since I updated two chapters within the same time frame, the next chapter will be up a bit longer. So like always, until next time guys! ^_^


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ, its character's or the book "The Marriage Merger" by Jennifer Probst

Summary: Having been burned by relationships before, Bulma Briefs has stayed on her family's businesses, keeping work her main priority. That was until Vegeta Ouji, lured her out of her workaholic lifestyle with an irresistible offer. She shouldn't be trusting him, but his powerful onyx gaze has her rethinking the best use of a conference room, is the riskiest proposition.

* * *

"Strange. There're a few extra cars here today. Guess my parents invited some guests to Sunday dinner."

Vegeta linked Bulma's hand within his and winked at her. "Good, maybe there will be even more food to munch on."

She laughed and shook her head. "You are amazing. I've never seen a grown man eat like they've never had real food before. Well besides Goku."

"Goku?"

"He's a childhood friend of mine that I knew since I was sixteen and he was twelve. I was on my way to school on my bike and nearly ran him over since he was wasn't on the sidewalk."

"Humph, what an idiot." Vegeta snorted. "He sounds like someone I knew when I was a child. The kid was a complete clown."

"Goku was a bit of a dense at times, but he was pretty smart. At least when it came to sports." Bulma chuckled lightly at the memory. "After any game he played, he would come over my house and mom would have to make three times the amount of food just to feed him. He always had the stomach of a bottomless pit, we wondered where it all went."

"I could imagine. Your mother's cooking is amazing. The last time I've had good home-cooked food like that was when my mother was alive. Though if your mother keeps feeding me food like that, I'm going to have to hit the gym more often."

"Well it's certainly paying off." Bulma smiled coyly. "I should know, I've seen what you have to offer."

He shot her a smirk. "Well then, perhaps I can show you a bit more of what working out does for me later tonight?" He pulled her a bit closer. "Better yet, we can skip this dinner and we can start a bit early."

"Hmmm, tempting. However, I already told my mom we'd be here and we can't just leave now." She said, reaching the door.

"We can always leave before desert. I assure you I'll give you something sweeter and delectable than whatever your mother made."

She turned back to him, her cheeks turning slightly pink. "Behave Vegeta." She chided him playfully, then opened the door.

"Surprise!" A roar filled the room as the door opened.

Bulma looked inside in pure shock. She couldn't speak as the image before her finally registered. Crowding the room were friends she hadn't seen and talked to in months. Some in years.

Tears filled her eyes, and she pressed her fingers against her mouth. "Oh my God, I don't believe it!" She rushed forward and was immediately clasped in a cocoon of safety and warmth. With laughter, tears, and shouting, she reached out and grabbed onto the first person in her line of sight for a big hug, Krillin.

Krillin laughed heartily and squeezed her back. "We wanted to surprise you! It has been a while since we all saw you and your mom called us and said she wanted to surprise you with a big bash."

Another good friend of hers who she hadn't seen in years, Tien Shinhan, lifted her in his arms and swung her around like she was five years old. "We all took off work just to be here and of course we were going to make it."

"Where's Chiaotzu?" Bulma asked him, noticing that her other friend and Tien's best friend wasn't here.

"He couldn't make it sadly. He's been sick lately and didn't want anyone to catch what he had." Tien said. "Besides, this gave me and Launch a chance to spend some quality time together before the wedding."

"Wedding?" Bulma said shocked.

"Yeah, Bulma." Launch came to stand beside Tien's side. "We've been engaged for five months now and plan to marry sometime by the end of the year."

"So Tien finally manned up huh? Well about time!" Bulma replied.

She chatted until a strange sensation fell over her. Bulma swiveled her head and caught her husband's gaze. He looked uncomfortable at the moment, and was staying as far away from the crowd as possible with his back pressed against the door. Her heart lurched, and she walked back into the foyer to slowly take his hand and link it with her own.

"Everyone, this is Vegeta. My new husband."

Everyone was in total shock at the news. And as each of her friends said her hellos, they asked why she never told anyone she got married and why they weren't invited.

"Looks like the party got started without us, huh?" A new voice came in through the door, having Bulma turning around in shock and happiness.

"Goku!" She left Vegeta's side and went to hug her best friend.

"Hey, Bulma, sorry we're late." Goku replied, cheekily. "But Chi-Chi wouldn't let me leave the house until I looked presentable."

"Is it my fault I want you to look your best and want you to wear something other than a pair of jeans and a t-shirt." Chi-Chi admonished her husband.

"After all these years, you've never changed huh, Goku?" Bulma chuckled. "And how are you Chi-Chi?" She said, turning her attention to her other friend.

"I'm great Bulma." Chi-Chi replied, embracing her in a warm hug. "It's been so long, we haven't seen you in what feels like forever."

"It has been forever." Bulma then noticed the seven year old boy, standing beside Chi-Chi, looking of a mixture between both his parents. "This can't be Gohan right here?" She asked, smiling at him. "Come here little guy!"

Gohan left his mother's side and went into Bulma's arms as she pulled him into a hug. "Goodness, look how much you've grown since I last saw you!"

"He was four the last time you saw him." Chi-Chi replied.

"Yes and I blame my busy schedule for not seeing him earlier." Bulma said. She then Grabbed Vegeta and had him standing by her side. "Anyway, Chi-Chi, Goku, this is—"

"Vegeta?" Goku interrupted, surprised. "Wow, it's been a while buddy!" He said, going over to pat Vegeta on the back, making him move forward with a small groan.

"Kakarot." Vegeta replied back.

"Jeeze, we haven't seen each other since we were children and this is how you greet me?" Goku chuckled, lightly.

"Wait a minute, you two know each other?" Bulma asked, looking between them both.

"Unfortunately." Vegeta grumbled, non to happily.

"Oh don't be that way! We knew each other growing up, went to the same elementary school and everything. Those sure were some good times!"

A smirk graced Vegeta's lips. "Oh really? Was that because during those years whenever we got into a brawl, _I_ would always win."

Goku's smile faded. "Hey, that's not fair Vegeta! Most of those fights were during bad weather and I slipped on some occasions."

"Hmph, sure, use that as your excuse and not the fact that you were a weak little thing." Vegeta chided.

Bulma laughed at their easy camaraderie. Who would've thought that she and Vegeta have known the same person when they were younger? Funny how that worked out. And whatever Vegeta might've said earlier about him, it seems like he and Goku were, and are, still good friends no matter how much time had passed between them.

She took a moment to immerse herself in the crazy chaos of her closest loved ones. She missed Tights, who would've completed the entire circle, but she had an event coming up and was busy preparing for it this week. Bulma made a note to call her so they could at least Skype sometime later.

* * *

The hours passed as they drank bottles of good wine, chatted and munched on platters of delicious appetizers. Thick tomato with buffalo mozzarella, Swedish meatballs on Italian crostini's. Plump mushrooms with lumps of crab, salty prosciutto wrapped around sweet, juicy melon. She noticed that Vegeta seemed to relax, having conversations with Goku and, another friend of hers, Piccolo.

Chi-Chi beckoned Bulma from the door and she crossed the room. "What's the matter?"

Chi-Chi gave her a stern look before saying. "Your mom told me that you haven't been cooking in a while."

Bulma bit her lip. "I have a company to run and a restaurant to help manage Chi-Chi. I'm too busy to cook."

Chi-Chi lowered her voice in a hiss. "For being married you have to find the time to at least cook a meal for your husband, Bulma. Why imagine if I never learned how to cook before I married Goku."

"Knowing that he loves to eat, he probably would've left you before you even got hitched." Bulma said, jokingly.

"This is no laughing matter Bulma." Chi-Chi reprimanded her. "Your mother is finishing up on some of the dishes for dinner, why not go in and help her with the pasta dishes, then serve your husband a plate."

Panic fluttered and Bulma's stomach sank fast and low. Panchy had told her and Tights that on her side of the family's tradition, they would cook everything from scratch for each new spouse in the family because it was a sense of intimacy between them. Feeding your husband or wife with your own hand was a way to connect on a deeper level and nourish a connection beyond the physical. Not that Vegeta would know, of course. He'd have no idea if she slid a plate in front of him, but Bulma didn't think she could handle it.

It had been two full weeks since their wedding night and the fragile bond formed then seemed to bloom brighter with each day. They never analyzed their new relationship. Each night, Vegeta took her into bed, made love to her in every way imaginable, and held her through sleep. Black Pearl was taking form with the speed of light, the construction complete and all the details finalized for the unveiling in three months. And because of their schedules, she hadn't had time to cook, but order take-out or they would sit in a restaurant and share a meal when they weren't working overtime. They formed their own routine as a married couple, but none of them looked deeper than that.

"Umm, I don't think this is a good time—"

"Nonsense, Bulma!" Panchy came out, a bowl of salad in her hands. "It's my family's tradition and you _will_ abide by it. Is that clear?" She said, with a bright smile that hid a darker meaning.

Bulma gave a sigh. "Fine, mom. I'll help with the roast." She looked around. "Where's Eighteen?" She asked, tying an apron around her waist.

"Out in the yard with Marron. You know how she is when it comes to cooking."

Bulma shuddered from the last memory she had of Eighteen's last attempt of cooking something for her family. It was probably best she did just stay out of the kitchen.

Within moments, Bulma fell into the motions of her cooking duties. The movements soothed her, and an odd need to excel at making the food she would feed her husband beat inside her. The room fell away, and she lost herself in the task. She heard the mutters of her mom and Chi-Chi, but Bulma never broke her concentration.

They prepared, set the table, laughed, and drank wine during various tasks while thick pots of gravy bubbled up and the smell of garlic and lemons tinged the air. Wooden bowls were placed at each setting, and everyone filed in with groans of approval. The scrape of chairs against the floor rose to her ears. Steam billowed, and Bulma made sure her food was cooked perfectly.

She stood with her plate in her hands. Her hands slipped on the edges, and she chastised herself for being so ridiculous. He wouldn't know. No one would. It was a silly tradition anyway and meant nothing. She set the plate in front of him. "Here you go."

The sudden chatter dimmed. All gazes focused on Vegeta, who stared down at his plate and then back up in pure confusion. Damn them all. Why were they making it meaningful? "What are you all looking at?" He asked.

Panchy gave Bulma the look. The look that prodded her to speak and had forced her to do many things she didn't want to do over the years. Bulma pressed her lips together. Panchy snorted at her daughter's stubbornness and took the reins. "Bulma has made your plate by her own hands. She has done this with the honor of serving you, her husband, for your pleasure."

Heat struck her cheekbones. This was such an archaic tradition. Vegeta was probably dying from being the focus of everyone's attention with no idea how to react. Her nerves fluttered. "It's nothing." She forced a laugh. "Just eat."

She slid into the seat beside him and laid her napkin on her lap. When he didn't say anything, she lifted her lids to sneak a peek.

He stared down at the plate of food in sheer amazement. As if gazing at pure gold, he shifted his glance back and forth, staring with a strange vulnerability and need that called out to her. "You made this for me?" He asked.

Bulma gave a jerky nod.

In silence, he picked up his utensils and cut into the roast, then placed it in his mouth with a reverence that stole her breath and her heart. Vegeta swallowed, then slowly placed his utensils down. In front of all witnesses, he reached over and took her hand in his. The warm strength of his grip settled her nerves and caused a pure joy to flood every crevice of her body.

"Thank you for this gift. It's one the best things I ever ate in my life."

She smiled and squeezed his hand. "Good." She whispered.

Chatter resumed, stories were shared, and Bulma ate. But she knew something had changed between them. Something that couldn't be undone. Something that broke all the rules.

She pushed the thought away and focused on her friends and family.

* * *

She cooked for him.

Vegeta ate with a methodical precision as the scene at the table faded to the background. Odd, when she laid the plate in front of him, he sensed something different. Like he'd reverted to an alternate time and place where certain actions masked deep emotions that were experienced but unspoken. His wife had prepared a dish with him solely in mind and served him with a humbleness he didn't deserve. She even looked at him with a banked fire in her eyes that drew him to her like a homing pigeon on a mission.

He never considered food a big deal. Like every mammal on Earth, he ate when he was hungry and stopped when he had his fill. He dined at gourmet restaurants, where culinary chefs had prepared meals on yachts and in endless hotel rooms, and he'd ordered room service for women he slept with.

Since their wedding night, Bulma hadn't prepared anything and neither had he. Both were extremely busy and hadn't had the time to prepare anything. They had shared meals together since being married but today was different. She offered him something of herself, as beautifully as she offered her body to him night after night. And in the way he only knew from his life, he took and took and took, giving her orgasms and pleasure but keeping himself solidly locked behind a wall that crumbled inch by inch with each day that passed.

Confusion and want swamped him in a deadly mixture.

Soon a memory caught, shifted, and dragged him under.

It was dinner. The last one he had with his father and brother. Since his mother died, they hadn't spent much holidays together, however this Thanksgiving was different. His father had taken them out to dinner and his father had told them stories about his childhood, how he started Ouji Enterprises, meeting their mother for the first time, and recalling stories when both Vegeta and Tarble were young boys. That night for the first time since his mother died was filled with laughter and joy. They had become a real family again.

And then it was ripped away from him because of Frieza….

"Vegeta? Are you okay?"

The voice cut through the memory, but it was too late.

Nausea twisted his stomach, and sweat broke out on his skin. He gazed at Bulma with unfocused eyes and knew he had to get out of that room for a minute. "Just have to use the bathroom. Be right back."

He half stumbled out of his chair and shot down the hallway. He locked the bathroom door behind him with shaking fingers, leaning over the toilet as he willed the sickness to go away.

God, even after all these years the pain still got to him.

He ran the faucet and splashed cold water on his face, and took deep, ragged breaths. He was kidding himself. He was playing at a normal life he'd never have. He lost the very people he cared about and because of that he was damaged. He thought he could forget it, but deep down he knew he couldn't. Can't. He ached to give the one person who started making their way into his very being. To give her what she needed, but he'd been numb for so many years, he didn't know how to feel any softer emotions. Especially love. Not anymore.

He needed to get out of here. Gain some space. He'd make an excuse of sickness and go home, think about what to do, run away, get out, and get lost.

He stepped out, and Goku stood before him.

"You okay, Vegeta?" Goku asked, concern lacing his voice.

Vegeta fought a shudder. "Yeah, sure, just ate too fast, you know. Not feeling good. I need to leave."

Sharp onyx eyes that shredded his lies and saw too much pinned him. "I can understand. It's a lot in there." He jerked his thumb toward the kitchen. "Are you still having attacks?"

Vegeta clawed for control not to spring through the door and leave it all behind. "…Yeah. But only if something triggers it."

Goku's eyes lightened a bit in understanding. "I know its hard Vegeta. Believe me, you're not the only one whose lost family. And you shouldn't let their deaths affect you and focus on the happy times you spent with them. I certainly wish I could remember my parents. Yours might've been taken away from you at an important age in your life, but at least you still remember them. You have to fight these demons haunting your past, and focus on what you have right now. Bulma is a wonderful woman and I know that she can help you heal and move on in peace."

Taking in Goku's words, a deep calmness settled over Vegeta and smoothed out the jagged edges. He nodded and clasped him on the shoulder. "For someone who's a clown, you do give good pep talks sometimes."

Goku smiled, chuckling lightly. "I'll take that as your way of saying thank you."

"Think whatever you want." Vegeta said, secretly smiling in gratitude.

He walked with Goku back to the table and took his seat.

Bulma stared at him with a worried look he was beginning to savor. How odd to have a female since his mother care about him and his welfare. "Are you okay?" She whispered.

"Yeah. Now I am." They smiled at each other and the room slammed into vivid neon color. Same type of thing that always happened when his wife walked into a room.

* * *

That evening, back at her home, Bulma gazed out the window. Darkness soaked every inch of the night sky. The tiny sliver of moon emitted a weak trickle of light. Crooked tree branches swayed in spooky shadows, and fireflies emitted serving as tiny little stars flashing within the grass. She pressed her cheek to the window pane of glass and wondered what she was going to do.

She was in love with her husband.

The knowledge rose up and mocked everything she'd thought she was. Everything she thought she'd wanted. The rocky, littered path to this moment stunned her. First business. Then sex. She'd been so cocky, believing she could compartmentalize her feelings like a work deal. Somehow, emotion had mixed up with the physical and had snatched away any rational thought. Vegeta was the perfect man not to fall in love with. He offered shocking bodily pleasures, but clearly stated he'd never be hers. He didn't believe in love. Wasn't able to gift that emotion because of fear. He was honest about his limitations. Within two short weeks of marriage, did she expect to change him?

She glimpsed at the man he was hiding behind walls, the walls of his past he refused to share. Bulma thought about the night he'd confessed his past. She knew how difficult it was for him to revisit the nightmares. The precious gift meant more to her than anything. He recognized her broken vulnerability and tried to give her something to ease her. He had an amazing capacity to give, but it was twisted up with so many bad things, he'd learned to run away.

Setting the plate of food in front of him had changed her. In such a simple act of servitude, she realized how much more she wanted from him. How much more she craved to give. She wanted to be the woman he leaned on, laughed with, trusted. Being in the midst of her family, surrounded by relationships that were real, tempted her to reach out for more. Did he want more, too? And if she was finally brave enough to give him the truth, would he reject her?

As long as nothing was spoken aloud, they'd be able to continue. She could still have his companionship and his physical attention on a daily basis. Why screw it up by saying three lousy words? She wasn't as brave when it came to her feelings. Plus her awkward experience with relationships only confirmed her inability to connect with men. Maybe that's why her parents had to force her into this marriage under the guise of business, because they sensed her inward cowardice in regards to love.

Pathetic.

She never heard his footsteps. His hands pressed down over her shoulders and pulled her into his chest. Bulma breathed in his scent, her hands wrapping around his while she clung to what he could give her. His body. Night after night. Some part of him would always belong to her, as much as she belonged to him. He made her say the words before he slipped inside her, words she'd give freely, without sensual torture.

She'd give her husband her very soul if he asked.

The sexual chemistry burned and sizzled between them.

Her body softened, her thighs parting to allow him immediate entrance. She sensed his nakedness, his erection nudged the cleft of her buttocks in demand for more. She waited for the games to begin, the dark twisted world she craved, of dominance and submission, of raw nerves and bared lust.

He turned her slowly, cupped her cheeks, and then took her mouth. His tongue claimed her with slow thrusts that began the dance. She opened and allowed him to tug off her robe. The fabric slid to the floor in a pool of silk. His hands cupped, caressed, but she didn't need any foreplay, the whole evening spent in his company had weaved its own spell. His finger sank into her swollen wetness and dove deep.

Vegeta lifted her without breaking the kiss. Her legs wrapped tight around his hips and with one slow slide, he buried himself inside her.

Home.

She welcomed him, clenching around his shaft. This time, there was no play, no teasing nips or confessions wrung from her lips. There was only the hitch of his breath, the rock of his hips, the strength of his hands, and the sweep of his tongue. She shattered around him, never breaking her grip or the connection, and he spilled his seed inside her without the barrier of a condom, his teeth bruising her tender lips in a primitive masculine claim of possession.

Still inside her, he walked to the bed and eased them down, never breaking contact. The truth hovered on her lips, but she was too afraid to speak. The whisper of her name was the last thing she remembered.

* * *

BlueMoon Goddess: I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! I know it took a while to update this, but I have been very busy with a new job so it's taking a bit of my energy. But it was a pretty good chapter. Goku made his appearance (I'm sure you guys were happy about that), and he even gave Vegeta a little pep talk. Plus, Bulma admitted to herself that she was in love with Vegeta, so it's was certainly worth the wait! Anyway, I should have the next chapter up soon, so look out for it, until next time guys! ^_^


	13. Chapter 13

BlueMoon Goddess: Sorry about the long wait guys. I did say I would give you another chapter soon, and it ended up being a few weeks. But hey, I have it now so I hope you all enjoy it! And before I forget, I want to give a shout-out to GreatRageShortLegs, for the beautiful drawing they did on this story from chapter 3. It's on their Tumblr account, so please check it out through the link below.

post/163064875725/i-drew-this-for-the-awesome-fanfic-matrimonal

Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ, its character's or the book "The Marriage Merger" by Jennifer Probst

Summary: Having been burned by relationships before, Bulma Briefs has stayed on her family's businesses, keeping work her main priority. That was until Vegeta Ouji, lured her out of her workaholic lifestyle with an irresistible offer. She shouldn't be trusting him, but his powerful onyx gaze has her rethinking the best use of a conference room, is the riskiest proposition.

* * *

Goku lifted his beer in a salute, the frosty brew sliding cold and clean down his throat. "Glad you were able to come drink with me Vegeta. It's been way too long."

"And whose fault is that?" Vegeta replied.

"Well yours of course! I tried to contact you over the years, but you never returned my calls. You didn't even RSVP to my wedding."

Vegeta turned towards him. "I was trying to rebuild my company. Besides, I sent you a gift."

"Yea, towel warmers." Goku replied, sarcastically.

"At least I sent something."

Goku chuckled a bit. "Same old Vegeta. Well, at least we have the time to hang out now. I have missed you over the years."

"Missed getting your ass beat into the ground I'm sure."

"Vegeta!"

He gave a smirk, before sipping his beer. They were currently in a bar in the meatpacking district and already it was packed. The night crowd began coming, but the after-work crowd were still hanging around to celebrate the end of the day with good drinks and delicious food. Vegeta rarely put in time for socializing, especially at the local hot spots, but after touring Black Pearl and spending a few hours sketching out his plans, it felt good to relax and catch up with his old friend.

"So how's married life treating you?" Goku asked him.

The loaded question gave Vegeta pause. "Good."

Goku raised a brow. "Why do I think there's something deeper going on here? You're not the type to rush into a wedding, since the word commitment used to give you a nasty rash. Was it love at first sight?"

Vegeta wished he could confess the truth. He was one fucking mess. Making love to his wife last night had transcended their usual bedroom games. Things were changing, fast, and the slippery slope kept inclining in a mad rush to toss him off. He took another sip of beer. "Something like that."

Goku stared at him long and hard. "You know you can talk to me, right? You've been my friend since childhood. But Bulma's also my friend, and if I thought you were a terrible person, I would've put a stop to it. But I saw you two together, and I know for a fact that you guys were made to be together. She's the one for you."

Vegeta raised his gaze, startled. "What makes you say that after a few hours?"

Goku shrugged. "A connection. The way you look at each other. And you seem different, less…"

"Less what?"

"Haunted."

Vegeta jerked. He opened his mouth to respond, but Goku beat him to the punch.

"Hey, speaking of wives, aren't we running late? We're supposed to pick them up at seven, right? What time is it?"

Vegeta glanced down at his white gold Rolex. "We'll finish our beers and head back."

Goku noted. "I never go out anymore. Do you?"

Vegeta shook his head. "I rarely go out to socialize, unless it's pertaining to work."

Goku gave a little chuckle. "Yeah, I wasn't much of a partier before, but I did spend some to myself more. But after Gohan came, it's been crazy. I was lucky to have some quality time with Chi-Chi. It was a lot of work, especially since we had him in our early twenties, but it was worth everything. It's even a bit better now since he's older." He took a gulp of his beer. "So what about you and Bulma? Thinking of having any kids any time soon?"

Vegeta was taken aback by the question he nearly spit out his drink. Kids? He never thought of having kids, what with his past, he never saw them in his future. Though when thinking of Bulma swollen with his child, knowing that it would be his seed that made her that way, was emitting a strange feeling within him.

Though knowing Goku was waiting for him on an answer, he replied. "Jeeze Kakarot, we haven't even been married long enough to think about children. Besides, our work schedules don't permit us to commit to children at the moment anyway."

"Chi-Chi and I waited two years after we were married and had Gohan. Though, he did come as a surprise. A good one, nonetheless." Goku smiled.

"Yes, well don't expect Bulma and me expecting any surprises anytime soon Kakarot."

* * *

After another round of drinks, Vegeta and Goku finally left the bar. When they got to Goku's house, both men sensed trouble. They knew they were late but figured their wives would be flexible. After all, how often did their husbands get out for some quality male conversation?

Goku paused before opening the door. He blinked and swayed a bit on his feet. "How late are we really?"

"Just an hour, or two. I lost track after the third extra round." He noticed Goku was just standing there and wasn't making a move to open the door. "Aren't you going to open the door?"

Goku pressed his ears to the heavy wood. "I don't hear anything. No chatter, or TV." He rubbed his forehead. "I have a bad feeling about this. Ugh, we never should've had that third round! Chi-Chi's gonna be pissed."

Vegeta let out a breath. "Get it together Kakarot. Let's go in, tell them we lost track of time, and then take them to dinner. Are you afraid of your own wife?"

"Yes." He said in a heartbeat, without hesitation.

"Oh for God's sake!" Vegeta shoved Goku to the side and pushed the door open.

The scene before them was not good.

Bulma and Chi-Chi sat in the living room facing the open hallway, dressed in killer heels and little black dresses. The sweet scent of musk and spice drifted in the air along with another, fainter smell. Female rage.

Their expressions matched. Accusation peppered the men like ammo from a paintball gun, stinging and reminding them that hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. Or a woman waiting to be fed. Vegeta glanced at Goku. The magnitude of their error seemed to hit them all at once. He stepped forward to try and smooth things out.

Bulma met him halfway. The long naked length of her legs got him dizzy. Her hair swung in a rich cloud of ocean waves over her bare shoulders. The tiny scrap of fabric hugged her hips and stopped mid-thigh was an intricate mixture of black lace that played a wicked game of hide-and-go-seek that he desperately wanted to win. She wore deep red lipstick that plumped her lush mouth and gleamed moist and wet under the light.

"Don't." She put up a hand. "We've been waiting for three hours. Chi-Chi had to call and cancel on the babysitter for Gohan because you two didn't come back on time. Luckily her dad came and said he would take him for the night."

Chi-Chi narrowed her eyes and pinned Goku to the wall. "Do you know much I was looking forward to this? All of us going out for a real adult evening? Why are you so late?" She asked.

"Uh—"

"I don't care!" She interrupted, angrily. "You knew good and well we had reservations set for eight and when I called to ask to hold our table for a few more minutes, they had no choice but to give it away. Do you know how long it takes just to get a reservation at that place?!"

"I'm sorry Chi-Chi." Goku started nervously. "We ended up having a drink, and our watches stopped and we lost track of time."

Chi-Chi pointed to the piece of expensive jewelry on his wrist. "That watch? The one that never loses power, works underwater while scuba diving, and is as strong as James Bond's? The one I bought you for your birthday last year? That thing cost a fortune and resembles a spy unit and it stopped!?"

Strike one.

Vegeta raised his hands, his gaze roving over Bulma's low-cut top with blurred lust. "Look, we were late coming and we apologize. Let's just go now, and we'll make it up to you two."

Bulma pursed her lips. "We ate already, Vegeta. We were starving, so we ordered take-out from the place around the corner."

Strike two.

Goku gave a nervous laugh. "We're all together now. Let's open a bottle of wine, start the fire, and spend a relaxing evening in. We haven't done that in a while."

Chi-Chi glared. "We do that every Friday night. After I cook, clean and take care of our son."

Strike three.

"What do you want us to do then?" Goku asked.

The two women shared glances. Smiles easing onto their lips and Goku nodded with relief. Good, Vegeta and Goku salvaged the evening, and Vegeta would be able to drag Bulma out early so he could show her the many ways her outfit could be used for bondage purposes.

They stood in one uniformed mass, grabbed their clutches, and headed towards the door.

Chi-Chi said. "There's some take-out left on the counter if you haven't eaten. And Gohan isn't due back until tomorrow afternoon. Bye." She said, patting Goku on the cheek.

Bulma didn't speak. Just gave Vegeta a look and eased past him toward the front door.

Goku glanced around, not understanding. "Wait. Where are you going?"

Chi-Chi winked. "Out. Don't wait up."

In a cloud of sensuality and mystery and pissed-off hormones, they shut the door behind them.

And they were out.

* * *

"Stood up by our own husbands." Chi-Chi ran a finger over the rim of her glass and sucked the salt off her finger. "Pathetic." She sighed and stared moodily into her chocolate martini. "I shaved, waxed, and had a bikini wax done!"

Bulma chuckled. "You know how men are when they get together. Probably talking about stupid violent movies and sports. Remembering the good old days when they were young and free and drunk." She then replied. "But when was the last time any we went out for ladies' night?"

Chi-Chi sighed. "Too long."

"Exactly. So let's stop whining about our husbands and enjoy ourselves."

Chi-Chi perked up. "You're right. This is just as good. Shopping and eating a great café is a dream. I promise no more complaining. I mean, just look at this place!"

Bulma glanced around the familiar café. She'd stopped many times along the way to grab a drink or do some shopping, but seeing it through Chi-Chi's eyes made her appreciate the sleek design of illuminated glass, sprawling bar, and tiered ceiling. The bar hopped, music blared, and their table looked out over all the action.

"Agreed." She said.

"But we have to stick together on one point. They need to be taught a lesson." Chi-Chi said.

"Absolutely. What do you think we should do?" Bulma asked her.

Chi-Chi grinned. "It's what we don't do. No sex tonight."

Bulma wasn't sure she agreed about that. Sure, she was mad at Vegeta, but she still looked forward to climbing into bed with him after their girls' night out. She pursed her lips. "Couldn't we just torture them a lot in bed?"

Chi-Chi shook her head firmly. "No. It will drive the lesson home. Just tonight. Hell, by the time we get home, we'll be exhausted, and they'll be sleeping anyway. We won't suffer at all. But this needs to be a united agreement."

Bulma rallied. After all, it would be the easiest for her. And a night alone might be the best thing for both of them. "Alright."

Chi-Chi rubbed her palms together, black eyes sparkling. "Great. They have music starting in a few, so we can dance. Now that we're not having sex, let's talk about sex. So spill."

"What?" She ducked her head to fight the color in her cheeks and took a sip of her martini. "Uh, it's good. We're good."

Chi-Chi giggled. "You're blushing. That says it all." She then sobered up. "But seriously, I remember Goku telling me about Vegeta and they weren't all what I presumed him to be. He was the complete opposite and I'm guessing that has to do with you."

Bulma blinked in surprise. "Really? You think so?"

Her friend gave a worried look. "Why do you seem surprised? You got married. You're obviously madly in love. Is something else going on?"

Odd, Bulma had always been close to Chi-Chi but had never shared her personal secrets. Even other friends she hung out with were always chosen from work and rarely scratched the deeper surface of sharing thoughts, dreams, and fears. Her innate loneliness had become such a part of her makeup, she'd never thought to question it. But since Vegeta had stormed into her life, she craved more.

Her heart pounded and she dragged her sweaty palms down the length of her skirt. "We didn't elope like we told everyone. We had to get married."

Chi-Chi gasped. "Oh my God, are you pregnant?"

"No, no…my parents made us."

A short silence fell between them. The sounds of the band starting up, glass tinkling, and laughter rang out around them.

Chi-Chi cleared her throat. "Umm, Bulma, I think you need to tell me everything."

And she did. When she was done with the whole story, a lightness tingled through her body. For the first time, she didn't feel so isolated. How silly of her to be so afraid of opening up. The serious look on Chi-Chi's face told her how much she cared about her, and that her fight was hers as well.

Chi-Chi took her hand and squeezed. "I'm so sorry, Bulma. I had no idea you were going through this. But looking at you two at the party, I can recognize a woman who's clearly in love with her husband. You do love him, right?"

"Of course." Bulma told her, without hesitation.

"Then you need to tell him the truth. Vegeta loves you, and I see it in his eyes when he looks at you. When it comes to matters of the heart, you have to take your shot. It may have started because of your parents and on paper it sounded like a good arrangement, but he has real feelings for you. He's probably terrified, and you'll need to take the plunge. What do you have to lose?"

"Everything. It could change us." Bulma whispered. "As long as we don't push, things can stay the same. We're content. We still have each other. Maybe with more time, he'll come around. Vegeta was very clear he doesn't believe in love."

Chi-Chi smiled gently. "It might seem scary, but he knows that you're not going anywhere. He needs to know you'll fight for him. You deserve happiness, Bulma, a real marriage. Maybe children one day. And if he can't give this to you, you may have to make a choice. Once you figure it out, you don't have to be scared any longer."

Her friend's words crashed through her with a bone-deep truth. How many years was she going to wait to feel worthy of love? Would she spend the rest of her time working endlessly, being satisfied on paper but empty in her soul? No. She would face her fears head on. When she got back home to Vegeta, it will be time to lay it out for him.

* * *

Vegeta rolled over and stared up at the ceiling. Two a.m. He didn't expect her to come to him tonight, but he couldn't seem to fall asleep until he knew she'd gotten home safe.

He cocked his knee for a better position. Of course, she was fine, but he'd expected Bulma a few hours ago. What if she drank too much and got sick? Would Kakarot's wife call him?

He shifted for the hundredth time and glanced at his cell phone. Maybe he'd call, just once. Maybe— the sound of heels clicking echoed in the air.

Relief coursed through him. She was safe. Good. He ached to open his door to see her himself, but he forced himself to remain in bed. Time to go back to sleep. Nothing more to worry about.

Long minutes ticked by. He heard the adjoining bathroom door open. Water running. He imagined her brushing her teeth, donning her nightgown, and falling into bed. She'd probably fall into a deep slumber from a fun night out while he'd been tortured for hours waiting for her to come home.

He punched the pillow, then rolled over.

The door opened.

The hallway light splashed through and illuminated her naked body. She stood perfectly still and let him drink his fill. The high tilt of her breasts, the hard stab of strawberry nipples. Her dancer-type body was beautiful in its muscled symmetry and grace, the curve of hip, length of thigh, right to the perfectly trimmed dark mound that covered her sex.

He sat up in bed and waited.

She crossed the room, hips swaying, hair brushing her like a sleek blue waterfall. Her eyes were filled with a focus and purpose that stopped his heart. He opened his mouth to halt her, half afraid of her intentions, but his dick had swelled to the max and he knew he'd sell his fucking soul to claim her tonight.

She crawled, on hands and knees, across the bed. Swung her leg over him and straddled his thighs. A groan rose up and escaped. He reached for her.

"No." The velvety, dark voice of a powerful goddess made him pause. "You're not allowed to touch me. Tonight we play by my rules." She shook out her hair and ran her fingers down his cock. "Hands over your head. Grip the head rails."

A strange panic fluttered through him. He never played sub and was uncomfortable not being in control. No way.

"You know you love it when I'm in charge, woman. Let me show you how much I missed you." He reared up to flip her over, but those gentle hands suddenly wrapped around his erection and squeezed. Hard.

The breath let loose from his chest, and arousal hit and grabbed him in a death grip. His balls tightened at her calm power. "Wrong. We play my way, or I leave. I'm not kidding, Vegeta. Think carefully before you decide."

Holy shit, her demand touched his skin with pure flame.

He studied her face, looked into her eyes, and realized something else was going on, something he didn't know and didn't want to find out. He opened his mouth to call it off, but her hand did some magic stroking, and he shuddered helplessly.

He slid his arms over his head and grasped the rails. She purred like a cat and all that silky skin poured over him like warm sticky honey. He'd play her game for a few, then wrestle back control when she was too far gone. Confident in his plan, he enjoyed the shift of her body and the clench of her thighs as she adjusted herself over him.

He waited for the ease of foreplay, the glide of her mouth over his, the stroke of her hands on his body. Instead, she lowered her mouth and took his shaft deep.

He bucked up at the sudden move and gritted his teeth. Jesus, her tongue swirled around and licked with an expertise that made his eyes roll in the back of his head. Her hair spilled over his stomach and thighs, the strands sweeping and tickling his skin and wrapping him in a sensual cocoon.

Completely under her spell, his fingers tightened on the wooden spindles. She demolished him. Her teeth scraped the underside of his length, while her fingers massaged his testicles. Deep moaning sounds from her mouth vibrated off his erection and tumbled through his body. He stretched to monstrous proportions until his skin was pulled so tight he didn't think he could hold off any longer. Every stroke of her tongue, lips and teeth bespoke a pure giving of herself over to him. This was more than sex, more than a woman who wanted to receive pleasure. She continued to drive him toward orgasm at a heart-stopping pace he couldn't seem to control.

He released his hold on the rails. "Wait. Bulma wait, let me—"

She lifted her head. "No." Ocean blue eyes seethed with arousal, lust, and a need that stripped him of any rights.

"Don't make me punish you." She reached up and cupped her breasts, running her fingers over her tight nipples, taunting him. "Or you don't get to touch me at all."

The monster he'd created took charge. His body shut down his mind, and with a muttered curse, he returned to his original position. He feasted on the lush curves of her ass, the way the hall light played over her body, the delicious up and down motion of her mouth as she sucked him.

He hung on to his control with his last rasping breath, but it didn't stop, never stopped. She kissed every part of him, his legs, hips, stomach. Moved up his chest to play with his nipples while her hands massaged and rubbed his erection, keeping him iron hard. When she finally reached his mouth, he was starved for her taste. She nibbled his bottom lip, running her tongue lightly over the seam, until he groaned and opened for her.

She dove in, claiming him as he'd claimed her endless nights, knowing he was completely at her mercy. She tasted of sweet chocolate, crisp mint, and a touch of vodka. Her musky arousal assaulted his nostrils and made him crazed for more. His fingers gripped with all his strength until he was afraid the posts would snap in two.

"You taste so good. Feel so good." She breathed against him, diving in deep with her tongue. "I'll never get enough of you."

Time to finish. He eased his hold and got ready to take what was his. But she sensed his shift and slid down his body in one graceful motion. Parted her legs. And buried him to the hilt inside her. He cried out. Her silky, wet channel clenched around him and squeezed tight. She adjusted her position, shimmying her hips as she took control and began easing up and down on top of him. Within pleasure, a glimmer of fear took root in his gut. He fought for rational thought and began to flip her over.

"No." Her eyes were wild, her lips soft and slightly bruised. "Let me do this. Let me love you."

The words stung like wasps. He lost his breath. "Don't."

She arched, and ripples of pleasure shot down his dick.

"Bulma, please."

"Let go. Just this once."

She didn't wait for his response. She rode him hard, wild and deep. His need to come, to give to her, roared up and washed away the last of his control. He watched her as she neared the edge, held herself there, her fingers digging into his hips, hair streaming down her back, face completely open to him.

"Tell me you belong to me."

Her demand singed his nerves. He gritted his teeth, and the orgasm shimmered before him in all its haunting glory. "I belong to you."

"Come for me, Vegeta."

With a shout, he let go. His seed shot inside of her, but she never stopped the frantic pounding rhythm. She drenched him with her own climax, and aftershocks of pleasure hit and convulsed his body. The orgasm went on and on with so much intensity it blurred into pain. Vegeta took it all, humbled by her beauty, and a wave of emotion washed over him in violent splendor.

Her body folded over. Her breasts pressed into his chest, and he stroked back her damp hair. She gave him the words in the darkness with no hesitation.

"I love you, Vegeta. This is more than sex. More than business or companionship or something on paper. This is about how I feel when I look at you. About how you respect me, and how you make me a better person. A whole person. It's about the man I see every day. I believe he has everything to give; he's just afraid to take it. I'm not going to be afraid anymore. I'm going to be brave enough for both of us."

The stunning words crashed through his barriers and pierced his heart. His thoughts whirled in a jumbled mass of confusion and need and fear he'd never experienced.

Unable to speak, unable to do anything but breathe and remain frozen, he did nothing.

A while later, she fell asleep, never asking for his answer.

* * *

BlueMoon Goddess: Well Bulma laid it out all on the table and told Vegeta she loved him. We'll just have to see how it goes over his head next chapter. So until next time! ^_^


	14. Chapter 14

BlueMoon Goddess: First off, I would like to say, Happy New Year guys! I hope everyone is having a great start in the New Year. Secondly, I'm sorry for the long wait. I never intended to not have this updated this long, plus with it being already written out, I feel bad that this could've been up sooner. But anyway, I hope you all enjoy this chapter and all that it has to offer!

Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ, its character's or the book "The Marriage Merger" by Jennifer Probst

Summary: Having been burned by relationships before, Bulma Briefs has stayed on her family's businesses, keeping work her main priority. That was until Vegeta Ouji, lured her out of her workaholic lifestyle with an irresistible offer. She shouldn't be trusting him, but his powerful onyx gaze has her rethinking the best use of a conference room, is the riskiest proposition.

* * *

Two nights later, Vegeta watched the credits roll past on the massive TV, and he pulled Bulma's feet into his lap.

She groaned as he massaged her insteps. "I can't take any more." She moaned deliciously. "No more _Rocky_. I'm burnt out. How does he always manage to come from behind when he's so much smaller than his opponents?"

Vegeta snorted. "Wait till you see the final installment. The fifth one is so horrible we're skipping it, but he brings it in the sixth."

"But how old is he? I thought his brain was fried in three?"

He gave a patient sigh. Women. "He pushed through it. Like I mentioned, the fifth ones a tragedy, but the last one wraps the whole series up. Poor guy, it's sad how lost he seems without Adrian."

Bulma swung her head around. "What? Adrian dies? That's terrible! I don't want to see it."

"Come on, woman, you're usually not so girly. Suck it up."

She sputtered a laugh, which turned into one of those yummy moans when he worked her toes. She had pretty feet, with delicate bones and fire-engine-red nails.

"Fine, but this is the last one. It's almost two a.m., and most likely I'll be dreaming about knockout punches."

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and eased off the sofa to slip in the last DVD. After they had dinner, Vegeta announced they should have a movie marathon with the old classics. Since his collection included all of the _Rocky_ movies, he'd convinced Bulma to watch the original _Rocky_. Of course, this morphed into most of the series, so they all looked like a bunch of vegetables like poor Rocky.

She shook her head in amusement, the obvious adoration on her face for him making Vegeta's heart lurch. Odd. They acted just like a married couple would. The scariest part? He loved every moment of it.

He gazed at his wife, who was cuddled against his side, the conflict raging inside grew more violent. He knew he was hurting her by not being man enough to even admit he'd heard her confession and respond to it. He'd prepared himself for a dreaded conversation where he once again explained his emotional limitations, but instead she hadn't said a word. Just continued as if the event had never happened. He didn't even know if he was overjoyed or pissed off. Once again, the confirmation he sucked at dealing with real emotions dragged him down.

Bulma loved him. The truth was in her eyes every time she looked at him. His ice queen was really a woman full of passion and goodness, opening her arms to a man who had once lived in garbage and walked in darkness. All he had to do was take her hand and take a chance.

Maybe he could. Maybe, just once, this time it would work.

"Oh what time is it anyway? We have to check the nightly news." She always watched the nightly news because she never had the time to look at it in the morning.

"No way woman. You're not getting out of watching the other movies. I'll turn on TV in the kitchen and let you know if anything important has come up."

He walked into the kitchen and turned on the TV. As soon as he turned it on, he froze at what he saw.

" _Frieza Korudo, the CEO of Icejin Corp. who was sentenced to life in prison without parole fifteen years ago, is scheduled for the death penalty by lethal injection, tomorrow morning."_ The newswoman started.

Vegeta's fingers numbed at hearing the news.

" _Besides making some sketchy business deals for his corporation, it was revealed last month, through further investigation, that he was also the murderer of Vegeta Ouji Senior, the founder and previous CEO of Ouji Enterprises, as well as his youngest son Tarble Ouji. Years ago we were told that Vegeta Senior had only died of a heart attack, but it seems that Frieza had murdered both father and son for gain of his company. It was noted that Frieza had some connections within the police department and was able to hide the evidence of the murders and seal them away. Those who were involved in sealing away this information have been released from their positions and removed from the police department."_

Before hearing what else the newswoman had to say, Vegeta turned off the TV. He couldn't believe it. After all these years, the truth about his father and brother's murder has come to light. And now Frieza was going to pay for his crimes tenfold.

In death.

This should've been great news. Vegeta should be resting easy knowing that the bastard would be burning in Hell for his crimes instead of in prison. But instead he felt worse. He felt like an empty, soulless being with a past that would never go away and that would continually remind him that he couldn't find happiness and he was better off being a loner. That even with this great news being bestowed upon him, he still can't open up the way he needed to be and can't move forward in his life.

Not wanting to dwell on the feelings anymore, he returned to the living room.

Bulma sat on the chair with the remote in hand. "That took you longer than expected. Was there anything good on the news?"

"No. Nothing of interest."

"Well then, you ready to continue watching?" She asked him, remote in hand.

His tone was wooden. "Sorry, I gotta hit the bed. You can finish it up. My head's starting to hurt, and I need some sleep."

She studied his face, probing for answers, but instead, he just left her.

When she finally came into bed and slipped in beside him, he pretended to be asleep. He lay still for hours, throughout the night, and wondered what he was going to do.

* * *

Bulma sat in her office and stared at Chi-Chi. "Something's wrong. Really wrong."

Chi-Chi put down her coffee cup and looked at her with concern. "What's the matter?"

The itchy restlessness drove Bulma to stand up and begin pacing. The nugget of worry had now blossomed to a full-fledged attack. A few nights had passed since their movie marathon, and her husband was no longer the same. A faceless, nameless ghost haunted every moment, evident in the preoccupied look in his eyes, the distance carved out on his features when he spoke. He cited work and refused to eat dinner at home. He sidestepped her request to speak with him alone, ready with a list of excuses, and kept himself locked in his office or endlessly talking on the phone.

He canceled an outing with her family and kept away from her mother's house. When he wasn't working, she caught him staring at the wall, as if another place was on his mind. She'd tried to be patient and understanding. Tried speaking with him. Even tried sex, but by the time he came to bed, it was the middle of the night, and she'd fallen into an exhausted sleep.

"I think he got spooked. I told him I loved him the night we went out. During sex."

Chi-Chi swiveled her head around. "Hey, you weren't supposed to have sex that night. We agreed, remember?"

"Did you jump Goku when you got home?"

Her friend sighed. "Yeah. You know I did. When I got home, Goku apologized properly, so I figured I'd accept his apology in a proper enjoyable way."

"See? Drunk women get horny. So, anyway, I told him how I felt after I seduced him, and even though he didn't answer, he changed. He was more open before, happier. We were starting to gel as a married pair." Back and forth Bulma walked, her heels tapping. "But suddenly, during our _Rocky_ marathon break, he came back in the room and acted funny. He's withdrawn completely. I'm worried about him, Chi-Chi."

"I love those _Rocky_ movies."

"Focus, Chi-Chi."

"Sorry. Have you tried to talk to him about it?"

"Several times. He completely shut down. I've tried everything."

"Did you try sex?"

"Yeah, he's been avoiding me."

"This is serious." Chi-Chi nibbled on her lip. "Maybe Goku can talk to him?"

Bulma adjusted the photos of her parents and sister so they were lined up perfectly straight. Why couldn't the cleaning person put them back in their proper place when she was done? She held back an impatient sigh and refocused. "You guys are still coming over to my parents tonight right?"

Chi-Chi nodded. "Of course! Goku certainly wouldn't miss your mom's cooking."

Bulma stopped, doubts assailing her. The sheer rawness of her emotions screamed something was wrong but she didn't know how to fix it. "What if it's me? What if he doesn't love me the way I need to be?"

Chi-Chi got up and pulled her in for a tight hug.

"He does. Give him some time. I don't think he ever had anyone believe in him the way you do. And I think it's the opposite. I truly believe he doesn't think he's worthy of you."

Bulma hugged her back. "Thanks. I have a meeting in a minute. I'll see you tonight?"

"Yes." Chi-Chi got her coat. "Trust your gut, and do what you think is right."

After she left, Bulma pulled herself together and headed toward the conference room. She needed to be calm. Cool. Allow him to work it out on his own and be patient. She clicked off her earpiece, grabbed her files, and took her place at the table.

The department heads trickled in, laughing and joking. She fell into her role without hesitation, automatically bringing business back to being the main focus, challenging her directors on various questions, pushing for more efficiency, better production, bigger sales, and always more.

Her fingers gripped her pen, eyes unfocused on the screen. The PowerPoint slides flashed with fury in an endless rhythm.

She needed to talk to her husband.

The little voice inside whispered, growing louder as the meeting droned on. Bulma stood in front of her team and knew in that moment nothing else mattered except preserving the precious gift she had found in a simple business merger.

Love.

The pen rolled from her fingers. She pulled off her headset and threw it on the table. Her employees stared at her, startled at her sudden jerky motions. "I have to go."

Her assistant, raised her voice. "We'll wait if you need to take a call. I can pass out the new marketing statistics."

She shook her head hard. "No, I need to leave. I have to go talk to someone. Meeting dismissed."

She fled the building without a glance back.

* * *

The door slid open soundlessly and she entered the office.

Vegeta stood with his back toward her. Dressed in a custom designed black suit, the cut of his pants and tight jacket showed off the hard lines of his body. His stillness reminded her of someone separate from civilization, as if he drew in the world's energy and locked it up inside himself. Her heart lurched in pain and a wanting that would never go away.

"You need to talk to me. Tell me. I deserve that."

He turned. Those piercing onyx eyes met her cerulean gaze and shredded past the surface to her soul. Slowly, he inclined his head. "Of course. You're right. I apologize for avoiding you. I just don't think this is working out."

She swallowed past the fear and remained still. "Care to explain?"

He spoke as if he wasn't in the room with her. A wall surrounded him, reminding her of a pod who spoke human and acted human but owned no soul. "I told you from the beginning I wasn't good at this. I think spending so much time together, and being married, blurred the lines. I don't think you're in love with me, Bulma. If we take a step back and concentrate on why we did this in the first place, we can go back to the way things were. I can't risk Black Pearl because of emotions that aren't even real."

Her temper snapped. She closed the distance, moved past the wall, and made bodily contact. He jerked as she grabbed his biceps and dug her fingernails into his jacket.

"Don't you dare patronize me about my own emotions." She hissed. "Do you think I throw words like that around? _I love you_. It's not going away, and it's not neat and tidy. Now, cut the bullshit and tell me what's wrong. Did something from the past come up?" She paused. "Or someone?"

The surprised gleam in his eye confirmed her suspicions.

"Exactly what I thought. What happened? And why is it trying to remind you of all the reasons you don't deserve to be happy?"

She struck a nerve.

Rage and grief battled for dominance, and he grabbed her arms, shaking her slightly. "Why are you doing this? I'm not good for you. I never was. Don't ruin this between us. Let's step back, get our footing, and try to focus on why we did this in the first place. To settle a debt. To make your parents happy. To solidify Blue Lilies and have it within my hotel."

"Fuck that." She growled. He was in front of her but hovered on the edge of nothingness. Bulma was afraid if she let him slip over, she'd never get him back. "I don't care about work or Blue Lilies or anything I once believed in. Right now, all I want is you. Now tell me the truth."

"Frieza is dead. He received the death penalty this morning." The words were ripped out of his mouth in a snarl. He let go of her and stepped back, as if he couldn't stand the thought of touching her. He shook his head and rubbed his forehead.

Surprise showed on her face. "What? I thought you told me he was sentenced to just life in prison?"

"He was."

"Then how do you know he got the death penalty? He could've just been killed in jail or something." When he didn't respond, she tried again, soother this time. "You can tell me Vegeta. Please, I want to know."

"It was reported on the news las t night. They said that besides for his shady business deals, they uncovered evidence that he murdered my father and brother."

"How did they figure out that Frieza killed them?"

"They found out last month that evidence was uncovered in their deaths, along with the fact that Frieza had connections to the police department and was able to seal it away. Either way, it's out now and the whole world knows about it. They finally know that my father didn't just die of a mere heart attack."

A part of her was happy that Frieza was going to pay dearly for what he had done. However, she could tell that something was still bothering him, and she was certain she knew what it was. "You're still feeling hurt about what happened, are you? You feel as though, even though Frieza's dead, it'll do nothing to ease you."

Vegeta remained silent, knowing that her words rang true.

Even though Frieza was dead, the hurt and pain he suffered by his hands will still remain in his heart. She knew he was damaged for life and couldn't think to give his heart to someone else. But she knew that she would have to be the one to help ease him and make him believe that life goes on and he can indeed find happiness again. With her by his side, helping him along the way.

Bulma gathered all her strength and walked over, and tilted her head to gaze up at him. His beautiful face looked down at her in puzzlement, not understanding why she wasn't leaving him or cringing in disgust. She didn't know if he'd ever heal his wounded soul, but she refused to walk until she knew this man couldn't give her the love he held tightly under wraps in the mistaken impression he'd hurt someone he cared about.

She traced his face with tenderness.

"The man right before me, is a man who lost the only people he's cared about. He was able to get his father's company back after Frieza took it and was able to bring it back to its former glory. This man, might be broken and feel as though he's an empty shell, deserves everything. Happiness. A home. Me. A family. That's what I want with you, Vegeta Ouji. Let me help you fill that void in yourself, let me in to remind you what you deserve and give you what you so desperately need. You're not getting rid of me. Until you can look me in the eye and tell me I mean nothing to you, I'm fighting for both of us." She raised herself on tiptoe and pressed a kiss to his lips. "I want you to come to my parents tonight. We're having our family dinner and Goku and Chi-Chi will be there as well. I want you there because you're a part of this family now. A part of me. And I love you. Deal with it."

She left him with her words echoing in the air.

* * *

He wasn't coming.

Bulma stared at the door with a sinking heart. However, she refused to accept defeat. She'd spent her whole life hiding from anything messy or real. It was finally time to fight for her future, but Vegeta might not be ready. The first test had failed. The path ahead might be a losing battle, but she wasn't going to step neatly aside and let the man she loved isolate himself because he was afraid he had no emotions left to give.

Screw that.

Goku took a seat next to her. "I haven't seen Vegeta since our night out. Working round the clock?"

Bulma pasted on a bright smile. "Yeah, the opening for Black Pearl is coming close. We're all putting in extra hours to make sure we don't miss the deadline."

Goku's gaze assessed her face as if he knew there was a deeper problem. "You sure business is the only thing that's keeping him away?"

She was going to nod in agreement, but knowing Goku, she couldn't lie to him. Plus since he said he knew Vegeta for a long time, he may have some answers for her. "Something's wrong, with him Goku. Do you know anything about the death of his father and brother?"

Goku shook his head. "No. All he told he was that his father and brother died. Though it was reported that his father died of a heart attack."

Bulma struggled between needing help and not wanting to disrespect her husband's privacy. "The news lied back then. Vegeta confided in me weeks ago, that his father and brother were actually murdered."

Goku looked shocked. "They were murdered?"

She clenched her fists. "Yeah. They were murdered by a man named Frieza Korudo, who was sent to life in prison fifteen years ago from bad business. However, they found evidence that he was the one who murdered Vegeta's father and brother."

"Vegeta must be relived then that this Frieza guy is dead."

"No, in fact I think it's only worse."

"What do you mean?" Goku asked.

"Just because Frieza's dead, Vegeta is still suffering from the loss. He still feels like he's too far gone to give his out to me. A part of me wants to give him time, but my gut says the more space I give him, the more he'll slip away from me and those who care about him. I'm afraid I'll eventually lose him."

"Believe me Bulma, you're not going to lose him. I saw the way he looked at you during dinner two days ago. He cares about you. You just knocked him sideways with his feelings for you. He's obviously fallen hard, and he's never committed to anyone before, let alone marriage. Now he just needs that hard push to believe it what he has is something good." Goku gave her bright smile. "I'll talk to him tomorrow."

"Thanks Goku." Bulma didn't know if she was making a bigger mistake recruiting Goku. Her husband could lose his temper and slip even further away from her, but she trusted her gut. It had never failed in business. Time to put her instincts to the test in her personal life.

 _Please don't leave me, Vegeta. I need you._

* * *

BlueMoon Goddess: Well she certainly laid it out on the line. And hopefully this chapter didn't seem a bit rushed to you guys. Took forever trying to add in some of the bits. Anyway, next chapter will be the last chapter to this story and I'll try to get it out as soon as I can, so until next time guys! ^_^


	15. Chapter 15

BlueMoon Goddess: Alright guys I'm here with the final chapter to this story! Thank you to all who favored, reviews, and followed this story. I hope you all enjoyed this fic and will continue to read my other stories in the future. Now onto the last chapter!

Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ, its character's or the book "The Marriage Merger" by Jennifer Probst

Summary: Having been burned by relationships before, Bulma Briefs has stayed on her family's businesses, keeping work her main priority. That was until Vegeta Ouji, lured her out of her workaholic lifestyle with an irresistible offer. She shouldn't be trusting him, but his powerful onyx gaze has her rethinking the best use of a conference room, is the riskiest proposition.

* * *

Vegeta walked the site of the hotel and took note of the new developments with a look of pride. His vision shimmered before him, almost complete. The details were finally coming together to complete a portrait of exotic lushness paired with an environment that welcomed travelers home, with all the modern luxuries, from dedicated technology and video room for business executives needing to Skype and hold online meetings, to the pampering spa, pools, hot tubs, and steam rooms. The rich textures of polished marble, glittering crystals, plush velvet, and rich mahogany conjured old and new worlds. He'd used his private art collection to make sure the main rooms inspired, like a high-class art gallery for his guests.

He closed his eyes for a moment and pictured the hotel full, his dream finally complete. And wondered why the culmination of his goal beat like a hole in his heart.

Empty. Void. Dead.

"Hey, it's looking good, Vegeta."

He turned toward the sound of Goku's voice. A flicker of guilt trickled through him. Blowing off the dinner had been a visible slap in the face to Bulma and everyone else. Wishing he knew a different way to handle it, he forced a small smirk. "Of course it's looking good, it's my creation. Listen, sorry I couldn't be at dinner last night. Got caught up in the office. Hope you understand."

"Sure. We've all been there, especially around a new opening. Can I talk to you a sec?"

Warning bristled his nerves. "I have a meeting to get to. Maybe later."

"It'll only take a minute. It's pretty urgent."

Coldness seeped through his veins. "Fine." He led Goku up the stairs and into the shell of what would be his private office. The empty room was devoid of furniture and details, confirming it couldn't be a long talk. "Go ahead."

"Bulma told me what was going on with you and I was making sure that you were alright with everything that's been going on."

Vegeta's heart stuttered in an uneven rhythm, already not liking the way this conversation was heading into. "I appreciate the concern, but everything is fine and I'm handling it."

"Really? Because what Bulma told me, she has some concerns Vegeta. What you're going through is causing you to pull away from her."

A frown marred his face. "How much did she tell you?" Vegeta asked him.

"She told me that your father and brother were killed by a man named Frieza, and that you were still feeling the turmoil of it even when he was brought to justice. But I've known you for a long time. We've been friends awhile, and though we didn't talk about your past much, I'm not an idiot. You went through a lot when the remaining members of your family died and it changed you in a way that caused you to not open up to others. But seeing you with Bulma, I noticed that you've changed and started opening up. You're becoming a better person for her and I will stand by and state again that you are what she needs."

"You're, wrong, Kakarot," Vegeta said softly. "I'm not what she needs. Bulma needs someone who can make her happy. Love her the way she deserves and keep her safe. That person is not me."

"Yes it is. But you gotta believe it before it can happen, Vegeta." Goku leaned against the empty wall. "I have no doubt that there's no perfect person out there for Bulma than you. You're already in deep trouble. She loves you, and you can run as far and as fast as you want, but I bet she'll be waiting for you when you get there." He shook his head. "She's a seriously scary woman when she wants someone or something."

Goku's words dived deep and latched on. A crazy flicker of hope lit within Vegeta. "I don't know."

"I figured. Listen, there's going to be a celebratory dinner for Launch and Tien on their engagement, at six at Wild Lotus before they leave to head back home. Would be nice for you to come out and help us celebrate. So come on by real quick when you've had some time to think about what we talked about. Hope to see you later."

Vegeta watched him disappear, the words frozen in his throat. Fear and want mingled in a flood that drowned him.

Goku had thrown him a lifeline.

Now he just had to decide whether or not to use it.

* * *

Bulma was sitting at a table at Wild Lotus, enjoying the company of her friends and helping celebrate Launch and Tien's engagement. Well…she was trying to help celebrate. With everything going on with her and Vegeta, she wasn't really in the mood to celebrate. She hadn't seen him since she told him she loved him, him evading her all morning.

She felt a slight nudge on her arm and looked to see Chi-Chi giving her a concerned look on her face. "Are you ok Bulma?"

"Of course, why do you ask?" Bulma said, putting on a fake smile.

"C'mon, Bulma, I know you." Chi-Chi said, her voice saying she wasn't buying what her friend was trying to sell. "You're here physically, but not here mentally here. What's really going on with you?"

Grief sprang up and choked her. "It's just everything that's going on with Vegeta. I'm worried for him."

"Hey, don't feel too bad. Goku told me that he went to talk to him earlier today and I'm sure it went great." Chi-Chi told her.

"Yeah, and from what he told me, it seems that Vegeta still has some doubts. But I'm not giving up, Chi-Chi. I've spent my whole life waiting for a man like him. I'm going to fight as hard as I did when Toriyama Corp. tried to put us out of business and steal our inventions."

Chi-Chi laughed. "They never had a shot against you. And neither does Vegeta. Don't you worry, I'm sure he'll show up later."

Bulma gave a small smile. "I just hope you're right Chi-Chi. I just hope you're right."

* * *

Vegeta stared at the door to the Brief household. Bulma was probably gone. Still, he'd tried. Goku's words had beaten in his head like a mantra all day. He'd struggled about taking the step to come here today, but he still didn't feel as if he should belong to such an amazing woman and be a part of her family.

He turned and decided to go home, and stay with his first instinct to remove himself. It would be easier that way. For him and for Bulma.

Just before he took a step away from the door, Dr. Briefs opened it. "Vegeta! You just missed Bulma. She left an hour ago to head to the restaurant."

"Sorry, Dr. Briefs, I'll catch Bulma later at home."

Dr. Briefs opened the door wider. "Not yet. Come in for a moment."

"I—"

"Now, Vegeta."

Vegeta walked in. The house was still and perfectly clean.

He led him into the kitchen, and Vegeta took a seat at the kitchen table. Dr. Briefs brewed him a cup of espresso in silence, set it in front of him, and slid into a chair across from him. Vegeta sipped the steaming brew and hoped to God the businessman wasn't going to give him a hard time.

He couldn't take any more.

"Do you know why I made you marry my daughter?"

Vegeta looked up. "For Blue Lilies."

He waved a hand through the air. "I couldn't care less about Blue Lilies. Yes, it's important, but not as important as my children's happiness. No, Vegeta Ouji, I did it because I knew you were meant to be the one she loves. I also knew neither of you would have entertained the idea unless I forced it. Both stubborn. Both workaholics and both convinced love is an illusion and marriage an impossibility."

All the doubts reared up. His words came out clipped and hard. "You were wrong. I told you before when you first hatched this crazy plan. I don't have the emotional strength to give to someone else, and Bulma deserves better."

Dr. Briefs spat in disgust. "Crazy talk. We all have a past, some harder than others. We all have scars, either physical or emotional or both. Right now those scars are preventing you to move forward with someone who cares about you. Nothing is holding you from loving someone else except your own belief that you can't love anyone else because of the emotional scars you are caring. Today, you need to make a decision. You can fight for my daughter, the woman you love. Or you can take the other path and talk about what you are destined for, because of this fear that you say owns you."

Dr. Briefs' words hammered home and splintered the crumbled wall behind Vegeta's heart. Halfway torn down by Bulma, chipped away by Dr. Briefs' words, the final blow smashed the last obstacle. All that remained was a mess of rioting emotions, raw and vulnerable and pulsing with scars.

His voice broke. Vegeta bowed his head. "I don't know if I can."

"Yes you can, Vegeta. Your life is your own. You went through a lot in your years before adulthood and could not protect the ones you loved. None of us can always do that. So instead, we choose to love as much as possible, and that needs to be enough. My daughter didn't choose wrong. You _are_ who she wants, and she will not let you go easily. Let her choose you, and know you are enough."

The seconds ticked by. The wounds he had been carrying scabbed over, and a strange peace radiated from his gut. He was staring down two paths. One leading down the road to him closing himself off once again and not letting anyone get close to like he has been doing. And another path leading him to a place where he can allow himself to open up and be the person he always wanted to be deep down. Being open to let that special someone and loving them with all his heart and soul. He had a path to take. His chosen path. And he knew which one he wanted to take.

Vegeta looked up and looked at a Dr. Briefs with a determined look on his face. "Where is she?"

Dr. Briefs smiled. "They should still be at the Wild Lotus restaurant. You can still catch them."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. Now go get my daughter."

Vegeta stood up and raced out the door.

* * *

A couple hours later, Bulma had a heavy heart in seeing her friends go. Krillin and Eighteen had left an hour early to pick up their daughter from a friend's house, and Launch and Tien left twenty minutes ago to catch their flight home. So she was milling outside of the restaurant and saying her final farewells to the last pair, which was Goku and Chi-Chi.

Goku gripped her hard and raised her off the ground. "Stay strong, Bulma." He murmured in her ear. She smiled, his strength and support easing her heart.

"I will."

"Be sure to take a break out of your busy schedule and come see us." Chi-Chi said, giving her a hug as well.

"Of course."

"Maybe in a few weeks you can come over for dinner. Of course, me and you would have to go out and eat though. You know how Goku can put away and Gohan's no better."

"Definitely!" Bulma replied, grinning.

They turned and started making their way towards the parking lot.

"Wait!"

Everyone stopped. Vegeta ran towards them, before skidding to a halt in front of them, his cashmere coat and bright purple tie symbolizing style and civility. However, his face reflected the opposite—a mass of naked emotion.

Joy exploded through Bulma. "Vegeta." She moved toward him, but he put out his hands.

"Stop. I have something to say."

She stilled. Amidst the chaos, outside of the restaurant, a frozen silence clouded around them, half terrified of the words that would finally be spoken aloud. Her heart exploded in rapid beats that choked her breath. She fought through the fear and hoped that by sending Goku, she hadn't broken him.

His beautiful onyx eyes lit with uncertainty. His gaze skimmed the group as a whole, then came to rest on her.

"I can't do this anymore. Especially to you Bulma." He started.

"Please." She cleared her throat, desperate to stop him. "Please, don't."

"I have to. I have to do this now." He dragged in a lungful of air. "I'm a complete asshole. I pushed you past your limits and promised I'd be there to help you. But I wasn't. The first sign of real intimacy, of honesty, and I run like I've been doing since the death of my father and brother. Except you wouldn't let me. Somehow, you saw past the bullshit and loved me anyway. You wrecked me, woman. You tore me apart piece by piece and then put me back together. I love you. And though I don't think I'll ever deserve you, I choose to try. I choose you. All of you. If you'll still have me."

A sob tore from her throat. She recognized the leap he had taken to confess his feelings in front of her friends—a naked unveiling in public that scared him to the core. She stumbled forward, and he rushed to meet her. His arms held her tight against his massive chest. Drunk on his scent and his touch, she clung to him, afraid she was in a dream and she'd wake up.

"I love you. Every single part of you. And you were mistaken if you ever thought I'd allow you to leave me. You belong to me, and I'll spend every day making you believe it."

Chi-Chi sniffled. "Oh my God, this is just like in the books I read and all those movies. When the guy follows the woman to an airport and confesses his love before she could board the plane!"

Goku gave his wife a confused look. "But where not in an airport Chi-Chi. In fact, the airport is a few hours away from here."

"Oh, you know what I mean Goku!" Chi-Chi said, punching me in the arm.

"Ow, no need to hit me!" Goku wined rubbing his shoulder.

* * *

Vegeta's hand drifted over her belly to cup one of her breasts. A playful tug at her nipple heated her back up, and she let out a groan. "I need a break. Too many orgasms."

He chuckled and nibbled on the sensitive curve of her neck. "Quitter."

"Those are fighting words."

"Hope so." His tongue licked up toward her ear, and his hot breath shivered moist and warm, causing goose bumps to break out on her skin. "I got a lot to make up for."

She turned her head and kissed him deep and long and sweet. "You already did."

"It took a while, but I'm finally at peace and ready to move on and open myself more to you. In fact, I'm thinking once Black Pearl opens, I want to start a charity in honor of my family by starting a foundation to help send teenagers to college and get summer employment. Plus, if there are some who went through what I went through and lost their family members at a young age and don't have the funds to attend school, they should have the means to have the experience of college."

"That's a wonderful idea. I know your father is proud of what you've accomplished with his company all these years. And I'm sure Tarble is too." She pressed her lips to his. "And what about your plans for us?"

He grinned at her playful question, sliding her up and over him. He guided himself deep within her, rocking his hips until the light of lust lit her ocean eyes. "How do you want us to be?" He asked her playfully.

"We live happily ever after. One day at a time." She told him, lovingly.

"One day at a time." He replied back.

Bulma rode him until the orgasm shattered them both. He watched her, hair glistening in the moonlight, face open with pleasure, love and generosity. In that moment, Vegeta thanked karma for finally giving him the woman who loved him enough to fight the darkness and save him.

* * *

BlueMoon Goddess: And that is a wrap people! I hope everyone enjoyed this story and are satisfied with the ending. I want to again thank everyone who read, reviewed, followed and favored this. It was a long time in the making and I hope you read my other DBZ story 'Her Forced Marriage, and the Prince's Baby.' Also, be on the look-out for some other stories I have in the future, which should be coming up soon. So until next time guys! ^_^


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